Wipr 
III 


lu 


imiiii 


I 

pa 
O 


CD 

•-      -- 

33  S 
« 

E! 


"BROKE" 

THE  MAN  WITHOUT  THE  DIME 


C: 

£ 

t: 


"BROKE 


THE  MAN  WITHOUT  THE  DIME 


BY 

EDWIN  A.  BROWN 


ILLUSTRATED  FROM  PHOTOGRAPHS 


CHICAGO 
BROWNE    &   HOWELL    COMPANY 

1913 


COPYRIGHT,    1918 
BY    BROWNE    &    HOWELL    COMPANY 


Copyright    in    England 
All    rights    reserved 


PUBLISHED,   NOVEMBER,    1913 


THR-PLIMP  TON-PRESS 
NORWOOD-  MASS-  U-S-A 


TO 

THAT  VAST  ARMY.  WHO.  WITHOUT 

ARMS  OF  BURNISHED  STEEL.  FIGHT 

WITH  BARE  HANDS  FOR  EXISTENCE 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED 


1561266 


What  in  me  is  dark 

Illumine,  what  is  low  raise  and  support;. 
That  to  the  height  of  this  argument 
I  may   assert  eternal  Providence 
And  justify  the  wayt  of  God  to  men. 

— MILTOX 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEB  PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY xi 

I    MY   ITINERARY  AND  WORKING  PLAN      ....       3 

II     THE   WELCOME   IN   THE    CITY   BEAUTIFUL   TO   ITS 

BUILDERS 8 

III  CHICAGO — A  LANDLORD  FOR  ITS  HOMELESS  WORK- 

ERS     28 

IV  THE  MERCIFUL  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  YORK  ...     42 
V    HOMELESS — IN  THE  NATIONAL   CAPITAL     ...     48 

VI    LITTLE  PITTSBURG  OF  THE  WEST  AND  ITS  GREAT 

WRONG 57 

VII  "LATTER-DAY  SAINTS"  WHO  SIN  AGAINST  SOCIETY    62 

VIII  KANSAS  CITY  AND  ITS  HEAVY  LADEN     .     .     .     .71 

IX  THE  NEW  ENGLAND  "CONSCIENCE" 82 

X  PHILADELPHIA'S  "BROTHERLY  LOVE" 95 

XI  PITTSBURG  AND  THE  WOLF 104 

XII  OMAHA  AND  HER  HOMELESS 117 

XIII  SAN  FRANCISCO — THE  MISSION,  THE  PRISON,  AND 

THE  HOMELESS 123 

XIV  EXPERIENCES  IN  Los  ANGELES 136 

XV    IN  PORTLAND 144 

XVI    TACOMA 160 

XVII    IN  SEATTLE 164 

XVIII    SPOKANE 172 

XIX    MINNEAPOLIS        178 

XX    IN  THE  GREAT  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK 183 

XXI  NEW  YORK  STATE — THE  OPEN  FIELDS     .     .     .     .197 

XXII  THE  LABORER  THE  FARMER'S  GREATEST  ASSET  .     .  207 

XXIII  ALBANY — IN  THE  MIDST  OF  THE  FIGHT                .  218 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIV    CLEVELAND — THE  CBIME  OF  NEGLECT     ....  223 

XXV    CINCINNATI — NECESSITY'S    BBUTAL   CHAINS      .     .  244 

XXVI    LOUISVILLE  AND  THE  SOUTH 256 

XXVII    MEMPHIS — A    CITY'S    FAULT    AND    A    NATION'S 

WBONG 279 

XXVIII    HOUSTON — THE    CHUECH    AND    THE    CITY'S    SIN 

AGAINST    SOCIETY 288 

XXIX    SAN  ANTONIO — WHOSE  VEEY  NAME  is  Music     .  296 

XXX    MILWAUKEE — WILL   THE  PHILOSOPHY   OF   SOCIAL- 
ISM END  POVERTY? 305 

XXXI    TOLEDO— THE   "GOLDEN   RULE"   CITY      .     .     .     .310 
XXXII     SPOTLESS   DETROIT 314 

XXXIII  CONCLUSION 318 

XXXIV  VISIONS 328 

APPENDIX  .  .  339 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Author  —  As  Himself  and  "  Broke  "...     Frontispiece 

PAGE 

A  half-frozen  young  outcast  sleeping  in  a  wagon-bed.  He 
was  beaten  senseless  by  the  police  a  few  minutes  after 
the  picture  was  taken 3 

A  familiar  scene  in  a  Western  city.     The  boy  is  "  broke " 

but  not  willing  to  give  up 8 

A  Municipal  Lodging  House.  An  average  of  seventy  men 
slept  each  night  in  the  brick  ovens  during  the  cold 
weather 16 

At  a  Denver  Employment  Office.     Many  of  these  men  slept 

in  the  brick  ovens  the  night  before 24 

"  Stepping  up  a  little  nearer  to  me  he  drew  more  closely  his 

tattered    rag    of    a    coat " 32 

Huddled  on  a   stringer   in  zero  weather 32 

Just  before  Thanksgiving,   1911,  leaving  the  Public  Library, 

Chicago,  after  being  ejected  because  of  the  clothes  I  wore     40 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  Department  of  Public  Charities, 

New    York    City 42 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  New  York  City:  Registering  Ap- 
plicants   48 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  New  York  City:  Physicians'  Ex- 
amination Room 64 

Municipal   Lodging  House,   New  York  City:      "Now  for   a 

good    night's    rest " 64 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  New  York  City:  Favorite  Cor- 
ner, Female  Dormitory 80 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  New  York  City:     Men's  Shower 

Baths  96 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  New  York  City:     Female  Showers 

and  Wash   Room 96 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  New  York  City:     Men's  Dining 

Room 112 

"The  small  dark  door  leads  down  under  the  sidewalk  and 
saloon."  San  Francisco  Free  Flop  of  Whosoever  Will 
Mission 128 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  New  York  City:     Women's  and 

Children's  Dining  Room 144 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  New  York  City:     Male  Dormitory  184 

Municipal  Lodging  House,  New  York  City:  Female  Dormi- 
tory   184 

Municipal    Lodging    House,    New    York    City:     Fumigating 

Chambers  —  loading  up 192 

Municipal    Lodging    House,    New    York    City:     Fumigating 

Chambers  —  sealed    up 192 

"  I  would  have  continued  to  ride  on  the  top  as  less  dangerous, 

if  I  had  not  been  brutally  forced  on  to  the  rods"     .       268 

"  I  finally  reached  a  point  where  I  was  hanging  onto  the  cor- 
ner of  the  car  by  my  fingers  and  toes " 268 

Riding  a  Standard  Oil  car 272 

"  After  becoming  almost  helpless  from  numbness  by  coming 
in  contact  with  the  frozen  steel  shelf  of  the  car  I  stood 
up  and  clung  to  the  tank  " 272 

A  sick  and  homeless  boy  with  his  dog  on  guard.  He  is  sleep- 
ing on  a  bed  of  refuse  thrown  from  a  stable,  with  an  old 
man  lying  near  him 288 

Waiting  to  crawl  into  a  cellar  for  a  free  bed,  unfed,  un- 
washed. Fully  clothed  they  spend  the  night  on  board 
bunks,  crowded  like  animals 320 


INTRODUCTORY 

1WAS  born  on  the  28th  day  of  April,  1857,  in 
the  village  of  Port  Byron,  Rock  Island 
County,  Illinois.  The  waves  of  the  grand 
old  Mississippi  sang  my  lullaby  through  a  long  and 
joyful  childhood.  So  near  at  hand  was  the  stream 
that  I  learned  to  swim  and  skate  almost  before  I 
was  out  of  kilts.  My  father,  A.  J.  Brown,  at  that 
time  was  the  leading  merchant  and  banker  in  the 
town.  We  were  an  exceedingly  happy  and  prosper- 
ous family  of  six. 

My  father  died  when  I  was  seven  years  of  age. 
My  mother,  a  woman  of  exceptionally  brilliant  in- 
tellect and  lovable  character,  has  been  with  or  near 
me  almost  all  my  life.  She  died  in  1909  at  the  ripe 
age  of  eighty-four. 

When  a  boy  in  my  teens  I  attended  school  in 
Boston,  where  I  spent  four  years.  In  the  early 
eighties  I  moved  to  Colorado  and  have  lived  there 
ever  since.  In  1897  /  was  married,  and  the  intense 
interest  and  sympathy  my  wife  has  shown  in  my 
crusade  for  the  homeless  has  been  one  of  my  great- 
est encouragements.  With  no  children  for  com- 
pany, it  has  meant  a  great  sacrifice  on  her  part} 


I 


xii  INTKODUCTOKY 

for  it  broke  up  our  home  and  voluntarily  separated 
us  for  nearly  two  years. 

I  have  often  wondered  why  I  should  have  been 
the  one  to  make  this  crusade,  for  all  my  life  I  have 
loved  solitude,  and  have  always  been  over-sensitive 
to  the  criticism  and  opinions  of  others.  'Jl/y  mis- 
sion is  not  based  upon  any  personal  virtue  of  good- 
ness, but  I  have  been  inspired  with  the  feeling  that 
I  had  taken  up  a  just  and  righteous  cause,  and  the 
incentive  of  all  my  efforts  has  ever  bevn  that  of 
compassion  —  not  to  question  whether  a  hungry 
man  has  sinned  against  society,  but  to  ask  why  he 
is  not  supplied  with  the  necessities  of  existence.*] 

I  am  trying  to  solve  these  questions:  Are  our 
efforts  to  help  the  unfortunate  through  the  medium 
of  our  "  Charities,"  our  " Missions,"  and  our 
churches  all  failures?  Why  is  crime  rampant  in 
our  cities?  Why  are  our  hospitals,  almshouses, 
our  jails,  and  our  prisons  crowded  to  overflowing? 
And  these  questions  have  resolved  themselves  for 
me  into  one  mighty  problem:  Why  is  there  destitu- 
tion at  all, —  why  is  there  poverty  and  suffering 
amidst  abundance  and  plenty? 

I  am  convinced  that  poverty  is  not  a  part  of  the 
great  Eternal  plan.  It  is  a  cancerous  growth  that 
human  conventions  have  created  and  maintained. 
I  believe  it  was  intended  that  every  human  being 

*  The  author  asks  forbearance  for  the  direct  personalities  con- 
tained in  the  Introductory,  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
writer's  appeal,  and  it  is  simply  given  as  a  reply  to  many  in- 
quiries. 


INTKODUCTOEY  xiii 

should  have  food  and  shelter.  Therefore  I  have 
not  only  asked  "  Why?  "  but  I  have  tried  to  find 
the  remedy.  My  crusade  has  been  constructive  and 
not  destructive. 

My  mission  is  not  to  censure  but  to  disclose  facts. 
I  am  without  political  or  economic  bias. 

I  shall  ask  my  reader  to  go  with  me  and  see  for 
himself  the  conditions  existing  in  our  great  cities, — 
to  view  the  plight  of  the  homeless,  penniless  way- 
farer, who,  because  of  the  shortsightedness  of  our 
municipalities,  is  denied  his  right  to  decent,  whole- 
some food  and  to  sanitary  shelter  for  a  night.  And 
my  concern  is  not  only  the  homeless  man,  but  the 
homeless  woman,  for.  there  are  many  such  who  walk 
our  streets,  and  often  with  helpless  babes  at  their 
breasts  and  little  children  at  their  sides.  And  after 
my  reader  has  comprehended  the  condition  that  I 
shall  reveal  to  him,  I  shall  ask  him  to  enlist  himself 
in  the  cause  of  a  Twentieth  Century  Free  Munic- 
ipal Emergency  Home  in  every  city,  that  shall 
prove  our  claims  to  righteousness  and  enlighten- 
ment. 

To-day  there  is  everywhere  a  growing  sense  of 
and  demand  for  political,  social,  and  economic 
justice;  there  is  a  more  general  and  definite  aim  to 
elevate  the  condition  of  the  less  fortunate  of  our 
felloiocitizens  ;  there  are  united  efforts  of  scientific 
investigators  to  discover  and  create  a  firm  founda- 
tion for  practical  reforms.  I  am  simply  trying  to 
show  the  way  to  one  reform  that  is  practical,  feasi- 


xiv  INTRODUCTORY 

ble,  and  —  since  the  test  of  everything  is  the  dollar 
—  good  business. 

If  I  can  succeed  in  showing  that  old  things  are 
often  old  only  because  they  are  traditional;  that  in 
evolution  of  new  things  lies  social  salvation;  that 
the  "submerged  tenth"  ,is  submerged  because  of 
ignorance  and  low  wages;  and  that  the  community 
abounds  in  latent  ability  only  awaiting  the  oppor- 
tunity for  development, —  then  this  volume  will 
have  accomplished  its  purpose. 

I  am  determined  to  create  a  systematic  and  popu- 
lar sympathy  for  the  great  mass  of  unfortunate 
wage-earners,  who  are  compelled  by  our  system 
of  social  maladjustment  to  be  without  food,  cloth- 
ing, and  shelter.  I  am  determined  our  city  gov- 
ernments shall  recognize  the  necessity  for  relief. 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood  as  handing  out  a 
bone,  for  an  oppressive  system.  "  It  is  more 
Godly  to  prevent  than  to  cure." 

In  these  pages  I  shall  undertake  to  show  by  many 
actual  cases  that  the  so-called  (i hobo"  "bum" 
"tramp"  "vagrant"  "floater,"  "vagabond," 
"idler"  "shirker,"  "mendicant," — all  of  which 
terms  are  applied  indiscriminately  to  the  tem- 
porarily out-of-work  man, —  the  wandering  citizen 
in  general,  and  even  many  so-called  criminals,  are 
not  what  they  are  by  choice  any  more  than  you  or 
I  are  what  we  are  socially,  politically,  and  economi- 
cally, from  choice. 

I  shall  call  attention  to  the  nature  and  immensity 


INTRODUCTORY  xv 

of  the  problem  of  the  unemployed  and  the  wander- 
ing wage-earner,  as  such  problem  confronts  and 
affects  every  municipality. 

We  find  tlie  migratory  wage-earner,  the  wander- 
ing citizen,  at  certain  seasons  traveling  in  large 
numbers  to  and  from  industrial  centers  in 
search  of  work.  Most  of  these  wandering  wage- 
earners  have  exhausted  their  resources  when  they 
arrive  at  their  destination,  and  are  penniless  — 
"  broke."  Because  of  the  lack  of  the  price  to  obtain 
a  night's  lodging,  or  food,  or  clothing,  they  are 
compelled  to  shift  as  best  they  may,  and  some  are 
forced  to  beg,  and  others  to  steal. 

For  the  protection  and  good  morals  of  society  in 
general,  for  the  safety  of  property,  it  is  necessary 
that  every  municipality  maintain  its  own  Municipal 
Emergency  Home,  in  which  the  migratory  worker, 
the  wandering  citizen,  can  obtain  pure  and  whole- 
some food  to  strengthen  liis  body,  enliven  his  spirit, 
and  imbue  him  with  new  energy  for  the  next  day's 
task  in  his  hunt  for  work.  It  is  necessary  that  in 
such  Municipal  Emergency  Home  the  wanderer 
shall  receive  not  only  food  and  shelter,  but  it  is  of 
vital  importance  that  he  shall  be  enabled  to  put 
himself  into  presentable  condition  before  leaving. 

The  purpose  of  each  Municipal  Emergency  Home, 
as  advocated  in  this  volume,  is  to  remove  all  excuse 
for  beggary  and  other  petty  misdemeanors  that  fol- 
low in  the  wake  of  the  homeless  man.  The  Twen- 
tieth Century  Municipal  Emergency  Home  must 


xvi  INTRODUCTORY 

afford  sucK  food  and  lodging  as  to  restore  the  health 
and  courage  and  self-respect  of  every  needy  appli- 
cant., free  medical  service,  advice,  moral  and  legal, 
and  help  to  employment;  clothing,  given  whenever 
necessary,  loaned  when  the  applicant  needs  only  to 
have  his  own  washed;  and  free  transportation  to 
destination  wherever  employment  is  offered.  The 
public  will  then  ~be  thoroughly  protected.  The 
homeless  man  will  be  kept  clean,  healthy,  and  free 
from  mental  and  physical  suffering.  The  naturally 
honest  but  weak  man  will  not  be  driven  into  crime. 
Suffering  and  want,  crime  and  poverty  will  be  re- 
duced to  a  minimum. 

In  looking  over  the  field  of  social  betterment,  we 
find  that  America  is  far  behind  the  rest  of  the 
civilized  world  in  recognizing  the  problems  of 
modern  social  adjustment.  We  find  that  England, 
Germany,  Austria,  France,  Switzerland,  Sweden 
and  Norway,  and  other  nations  have  progressed 
wonderfully  in  their  system  of  protecting  their 
wandering  citizens.  All  these  nations  have  pro- 
vided their  wage  earners  with  old-age  pensions, 
out-of-work  funds,  labor  colonies,  insurance  against 
sickness,  labor  exchanges,  and  municipal  lodging 
houses. 

Because  of  the  manifest  tendency  to  extend  the 
political  activities  of  society  and  government  to 
the  point  where  every  citizen  is  provided  by  law 
with  what  is  actually  necessary  to  maintain  ex- 
istence, I  advocate  a  divorce  between  religious, 


INTRODUCTORY  xvii 

private,  and  public  charities,  and  sincerely  believe 
that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  community,  and  of  society 
as  a  whole,  to  administer  to  the  needs  of  its  less 
fortunate  fellow-citizens.  Experience  icith  the 
various  charitable  activities  of  the  city,  State,  and 
nation,  has  proven  conclusively  to  me  that  every 
endeavor  to  ameliorate  existing  conditions  ought 
to  be,  and  rightly  is,  a  governmental  function,  just 
as  any  other  department  in  government,  such  as 
police,  health,  etc.  The  individual  cannot  respect 
society  and  its  laws,  if  society  does  not  in  return 
respect  and  recognize  the  emergency  needs  of  its 
less  fortunate  individuals.  Popular  opinion,  senti- 
ment, prejudice,  and  even  superstitions,  are  often 
influential  in  maintaining  the  present-day  hypo- 
critical custom  of  indiscriminate  alms  giving,  which 
makes  possible  our  deplorable  system  of  street 
mendicancy. 

The  object  of  the  personal  investigation  and  ex- 
periences presented  in  this  volume  is  to  lay  down 
principles  and  rules  for  the  guidance  and  conduct 
of  the  institution  which  it  advocates. 

The  reader  has  a  right  to  ask:  How  does  this 
array  of  facts  shoio  us  the  way  to  a  more  economical 
use  of  private  and  public  gifts  to  the  needy?  Are 
there  any  basic  rules  which  will  help  to  solve  the 
problem  of  mitigating  the  economic  worth  of  the 
temporary  dependent?  I  shall  give  ample  answers 
to  these  queries. 

In  the  hope  that  the  facts  here  presented  may 


xviii  INTRODUCTORY 

bring  to  my  reader  a  sense  of  the  great  work  waiting 
to  be  done,  and  may  move  him  to  become  an  in- 
dividual influence  in  the  movement  for  building  and 
conducting  Twentieth  Century  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Homes  throughout  our  land,  I  offer  this 
volume  in  a  spirit  of  good-will  and  civic  fellowship. 

E.  A.  B. 
Denver,  September,  1913. 


"Broke" 

CHAPTER  I 
MY  ITINERARY  AND  WORKING  PLAN 

"  The  heart  discovers  and  reveals  a  social  wrong,  and  then  de- 
mands that  reason  step  in  and  solve  the  problem." 

IT  was  in  the  Winter  of  1908-9  that  a  voice  in 
the  night  prompted  me  to  take  the  initiative 
for  the  relief  of  a  great  social  wrong  —  to  start 
on  what  to  me  was  a  great  constructive  social 
reform. 

As  mysterious  as  life  itself  was  the  following  of 
that  voice  for  three  years.  I  realized  fully  the  im- 
portance of  actually  putting  myself  in  the  place 
of  the  penniless  man  to  gain  the  knowledge  and 
fully  grasp  all  that  life  meant  to  him.  It  came 
clearly  to  me  that  the  shaking  of  hands  through 
prison  bars,  and  the  regulation  charity  inquisition 
and  investigation  was  idle  and  useless.  Overcom- 
ing a  sensitive  dread  of  being  looked  upon  as  an 
eccentric  poseur,  I  purchased  a  workingman's  suit 


4  "BROKE" 

of  blue  jeans,  coarse  shoes,  and  slouch  hat,  costing 
about  four  dollars,  and  became  a  voluntary  wander- 
ing student  in  the  haunts  of  the  homeless  and 
penniless. 

I  did  not  intend  at  first  to  investigate  further 
than  my  own  home  city,  Denver,  but  the  demand 
reaching  out,  I  felt  compelled  in  the  months  of 
February  and  March,  1909,  to  visit  Chicago,  New 
York,  and  Washington.  My  visit  to  those  cities 
being  made  exceedingly  prominent  by  the  Asso- 
ciated Press  I  received  on  my  return  home  over  one 
thousand  letters  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  and 
not  a  few  from  the  Old  World.  I  awakened  to  the 
fact  that  my  plea  for  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home 
for  the  city  of  Denver  had  become  a  national  - 
yes,  a  world  wide  —  issue.  Many  of  these  letters, 
— from  the  North,  the  East,  the  South  and  the 
West,  —  bore  invitations  to  come  and  investigate 
the  condition  of  the  homeless  among  them.  With 
such  appeals  I  could  not  throw  off  the  responsibili- 
ties which  I  had  assumed,  in  trying  to  make  the 
world  a  little  better  for  having  lived  in  it. 

As  the  importance  of  my  project  grew  upon  me, 
my  first  thought  was  to  obtain  aid  from  influential 
institutions  or  individuals  as  a  speedy  way  of  re- 
alizing my  dreams ;  but  on  second  thought  I  realized 
fully  that  that  was  not  in  accord  with  my  plan, 
for  my  institution  was  to  be  a  governmental  insti- 
tution, and  was  to  be  created  and  maintained 
through  that  paternal  medium.  However,  as  an 


investigator  I  determined  to  test  the  heads  of  the 
great  foundations,  and  the  mighty  masters  of 
finance,  to  feel  their  attitude  toward  unemployment 
and  governmental  ownership  and  agencies  for  the 
betterment  of  social  conditions.  There  were  many 
champions  of  the  crusade  against  tuberculosis  and 
the  white  slave  traffic,  educational  promoters,  but 
the  homeless,  exposed,  suffering,  and  penniless  man 
or  woman,  boy  or  girl,  standing  ready  to  be  em- 
ployed, found  no  recognition  nor  were  considered 
in  their  well-intentioned  schemes.  They  could  not 
see,  or  would  not  see,  beyond  their  own  useless, 
wasted  efforts  in  meeting  our  problem  of  destitu- 
tion. 

My  plan  was  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  Inter- 
state Commerce  Commission,  which  recognized  my 
work  as  coming  within  the  bounds  of  the  law  to  the 
extent  of  granting  me  free  railroad  transportation, 
but  left  it  optional  with  the  railroads  to  give  it  or 
not.  In  my  demands  the  New  York  Central  abso- 
lutely ignored  my  request.  The  Pennsylvania  — 
with  smooth  abuse  —  slapped  me  on  the  back  and 
wished  me  good  luck  and  God-speed,  but  could  not 
think  of  carrying  me  for  nothing.  The  Gould  and 
Harriman  lines  were  always  generous,  and  a  num- 
ber of  other  roads  occasionally. 

It  was  a  one-man,  shoulder-to-shoulder  battle.  I 
carried  no  credentials.  My  plan  of  procedure  was 
to  go  first  to  the  leading  hotel  of  each  city  I  visited, 
because,  after  my  investigations,  I  wanted  to  meet 


6  "BROKE" 

the  leading  people  of  that  city.  Arriving  at  my 
hotel  I  would  don  my  emblems  of  honest  toil  —  the 
blue  jeans  —  and  would  make  my  study  of  the 
status  of  the  homeless  workingman  of  that  particu- 
lar city, —  a  study  which  held  a  message,  and  a 
message  which  usually  startled  the  city.  If  an  ex- 
tended study,  I  usually  lived  at  a  workingman's 
neat  boarding  or  lodging  house,  where  one  in  work- 
ingman's clothes  could  walk  in  and  out  without 
comment.  Armed  with  the  array  of  facts  I  had  col- 
lected, carrying  my  appeal  for  the  Emergency 
Home,  I  would  meet  the  various  progressive  civic 
societies  of  the  city,  and  as  far  as  possible  leave 
something  tangible  in  the  minds  of  the  members  of 
"  emergency  home  committees."  This  plan  I  al- 
ways carried  out  to  the  letter  except,  as  described 
in  my  narrative,  in  my  Hudson  River  study  and  in 
Cleveland,  as  well  as  my  study  from  Cleveland  to 
Memphis,  Tenn. 

Yet  after  all,  while  I  might  enter  in  the  life  of 
the  penniless  and  endure  temporarily  their  priva- 
tions, I  could  only  assume  on  my  part  for  I  knew 
that  at  a  moment's  notice,  in  case  of  accident  or 
sickness,  by  revealing  my  identity  every  care  and 
comfort  would  be  given  me.  Consequently  I  was 
free  from  that  mental  suffering  which  is  even 
greater  than  the  physical  suffering  only  those  can 
understand  who  toil  alone,  homeless,  penniless,  and 
friendless  in  the  world. 

After  my  first  visit  to  Chicago,  New  York,  and 


Washington  in  1909,  I  made  a  visit  in  the  same 
year  to  Pueblo,  Kansas  City,  Boston,  Philadelphia, 
Pittsburg,  Omaha,  and  Salt  Lake  City ;  and  in  the 
Winter  of  1910,  I  visited  San  Francisco,  Los 
Angeles,  Portland,  Tacoma,  Seattle,  Spokane,  and 
Minneapolis.  This  was  followed  by  investigations 
through  the  South,  which  really  ended  my  crusade 
in  the  Spring  of  1911,  although  I  made  a  brief  study 
of  conditions  in  Milwaukee,  Toledo,  and  Detroit 
during  the  following  Winter  of  1911-12. 


CHAPTER     II 

THE  WELCOME  IN  THE  CITY   BEAUTIFUL  TO  ITS 
BUILDERS 

"And  the  gates  of  the  city  shall  not  be  shut  at  all  by  day:  for 
there  shall  be  no  night  there."  —  REV.  21:25. 

ON  a  bitter  winter  night,  when  the  very  air 
seemed  congealed  into  piercing  needles, 
as  I  was  hurrying  down  Seventeenth 
Street  in  the  City  of  Denver  —  the  City  Beautiful, 
the  City  of  Lights  and  Wealth, —  a  young  man 
about  eighteen  years  of  age  stopped  me,  and  asked 
in  a  rather  hesitating  manner  for  the  price  of  a 
meal.  At  a  glance  I  took  in  his  desperate  condi- 
tion. His  shoes  gaped  at  the  toes  and  were  run 
down  at  the  heels;  his  old  suit  of  clothes  was  full 
of  chinks  soiled  and  threadbare,  frazzled  at  ankle 
and  wrist ;  his  faded  blue  shirt  was  open  at  the  neck, 
where  a  button  was  missing,  and  where  the  pin  had 
slipped  out  that  had  supplied  its  place.  His  face 
and  throat  were  fair,  and  he  was  straight  and 
sound  in  body  and  limb. 

"  You  look  strong  and  well,"  I  said  to  him,  "  why 

8 


A    Familiar  Scene  in  a  Western  City.      The  Boy 
Is  ''Broke"  But  Xot  U'illinq  to  Give  Up 


WELCOME   IN   CITY   BEAUTIFUL      9 

must  you  beg?  Can't  you  work  for  what  you  eat? 
I  have  to." 

His  big,  honest  eyes  took  on  a  dull,  desperate 
stare,  as  though  all  hope  was  crushed. 

"  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  asked  some- 
thing for  nothing,"  he  said,  "  and  I  don't  like  to  do 
it  now,  but  I  have  been  in  Denver  two  days  and  I 
can't  find  a  job.  I  am  hungry."  The  last  words 
trembled  and  he  turned  as  though  about  to  leave 
me.  I  stopped  him. 

"  Wait  a  moment ;  I  did  not  intend  to  turn  you 
down.  I  am  hungry  myself;  let  us  go  across  the 
street  to  the  restaurant  and  get  our  dinner." 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  study  this  strong, 
able-bodied  boy,  who  was  workless,  homeless,  penni- 
less, and  suffering  in  our  city  beautiful,  which  is 
famous  for  its  spirit  of  Western  hospitality  and 
even  displays  it  as  soon  as  you  enter  its  gate  by 
a  great  sign,  "WELCOME." 

As  we  sat  at  the  table  he  told  me  that  his  home 
was  on  a  farm  back  East,  that  he  and  his  step- 
mother didn't  get  along  very  well,  that  his  own 
mother  died  when  he  was  ten  years  old  and  his 
stepmother  had  not  been  kind  to  him,  but  that  he 
and  dad  were  always  great  friends  and  had  con- 
tinued so  up  to  the  time  he  went  away. 

"  I  promised  myself,"  he  continued,  as  his  hunger 
was  appeased,  "  that  as  soon  as  I  was  old  enough  I 
would  go  West.  I  thought  there  were  great 
chances  for  a  young  fellow  like  me  out  here,  and 


10  "BROKE" 

so  I  worked  and  beat  my  way,  and  here  I  am  to-day 
without  a  cent  in  my  pocket.  I  have  five  dollars 
to  my  credit  in  the  bank  back  in  the  old  town  near 
our  farm,  and  if  I  knew  anybody  here  I  could  get 
that  money,  pay  my  employment-office  and  ship- 
ment fee,  go  down  to  some  works  in  Nebraska,  and 
be  at  a  job  to-morrow,"  and  he  looked  down  in  deep 
dejection. 

"  Well  my  lad,"  I  said,  "  cheer  up ;  all  life  is  be- 
fore you.  Meet  me  to-morrow  and  we  will  see  what 
can  be  done."  On  the  following  day  I  took  him  to 
my  bank,  signed  a  bit  of  paper,  and  the  banker 
gave  him  the  five  dollars.  As  we  left  the  bank 
and  started  down  the  street,  he  took  an  old  brass 
watch  out  of  his  pocket  and  offered  it  to  me. 

"  I  want  to  give  you  something  to  show  my  ap- 
preciation of  your  kindness  to  me,"  he  said. 
"  Here  is  a  watch  the  pawnshop  man  wouldn't  give 
me  anything  on,  but  it  keeps  good  time,  and  you 
are  welcome  to  it  if  you  will  take  it." 

"  No,  I  will  not  take  it ;  you  will  need  it  when 
you  get  down  on  the  works,"  I  said.  "  Where  did 
you  sleep  the  night  before  I  met  you?"  His  face 
flushed  and  he  hung  his  head.  "  Was  it  not  in  the 
city  jail?" 

"  Yes,  and  it  was  the  first  time  I  was  ever  in  a 
jail  in  my  life." 

I  did  not  question  him  further,  but  to-day  I  can 
not  quite  understand  why  he  was  not  detained  there 
the  usual  thirty  days  for  the  unforgivable  crime  of 


being  homeless,  as  that  was  the  way  Denver  had  of 
treating  her  destitute  visitors. 

Then  he  looked  up  with  the  true  spirit  of  con- 
quest in  his  eyes.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I  am  going 
to  do  the  first  thing;  I  am  going  to  get  a  clean, 
new  suit  of  underclothing,  then  I  am  going  to  take 
a  bath,  and  then  get  my  shipment." 

"  Come  on,  my  boy,"  I  replied,  and  took  him  to 
a  cheap  store  to  buy  his  clean  underwear.  After- 
ward we  went  into  a  barber  shop  where  he  took 
his  bath.  Denver  did  not  then  have  its  public  bath 
—  the  beautiful  public  bath  later  built  through  the 
efforts  of  the  Denver  Woman's  Club.  I  waited  to 
go  with  him  to  the  employment  office  to  get  his 
shipment.  When  this  was  accomplished,  we  shook 
hands  in  a  good-bye,  and  I  wished  him  God-speed. 

Two  weeks  later  I  received  a  letter  in  which  he 
said :  "  I  have  a  place  to  work  here  on  a  farm  at  big 
wages,  with  one  of  the  best  men  in  the  world,  and 
I  am  going  to  stay  and  work  and  save  my  money 
to  help  dad  back  on  the  old  farm  to  pay  off  the 
mortgage.  It  is  nearly  paid  off  now  and  the  farm 
will  be  mine  some  day." 

After  that  incident  I  was  haunted.  The  picture 
of  that  boy  freezing  and  starving  so  far  from  home 
was  constantly  with  me,  and  yet,  I  thought,  how 
much  more  pitifully  helpless  a  woman  or  girl 
placed  in  the  same  position.  I  fell  to  wondering 
about  the  many  other  boys  and  men  and  women 
who  were  homeless,  and  of  what  becomes  of  the 


12  "BROKE" 

homeless  unemployed  in  our  city.  I  knew  I  was 
not  alone  in  this  incidental  help  I  had  begun ;  there 
were  hundreds  of  men  and  women  helping  cases 
just  like  this  case  of  my  boy.  And  thus  I  set  out 
on  my  crusade. 

Taking  my  initiative  step  into  the  forced  resorts 
of  the  homeless  of  Denver,  I  one  night  drifted  into 
one  of  the  big  beer  dumps  where  they  sell  drinks 
at  five  cents  a  glass  which  costs  a  dollar  a  barrel 
to  manufacture.  Many  men  were  in  the  place  seek- 
ing shelter  and  a  snack  from  the  free  lunch  counter. 
Twenty-five  stood  at  the  bar  drinking  enormous 
schooners  of  chemicals  and  water  under  the  name 
of  beer  containing  just  enough  cheap  alcohol  to 
momentarily  dull  and  lighten  care.  Not  a  few 
were  drinking  hot,  strong  drinks,  which  more 
quickly  glazed  the  eye,  confused  the  brain,  and 
loosened  the  tongue.  A  few  had  already  crept  into 
the  stifling  odors  of  the  dark  rear  rooms  and  had 
dropped  down  in  the  shadowed  corners  with  the 
hope  of  being  allowed  to  spend  the  night  there. 
These  rooms  in  earlier  days  had  been  "  wine-rooms," 
where  the  more  "  polite "  and  prosperous  had 
gathered,  but  who  took  the  "  wine-room  "  with  them 
further  up  town  as  the  city  grew. 

Among  the  many  gathered  around  the  big  warm 
stove  was  a  man  whose  appearance  told  too  plainly 
that  the  world  was  not  dealing  kindly  with  him. 
Stepping  up  to  him  I  said  in  a  tentative  way,  "  Have 
a  drink?" 


WELCOME   IN   CITY  BEAUTIFUL     13 

"No,  I  am  not  a  drinker." 

I  then  asked,  "  Can  you  tell  a  fellow  who  is  broke 
where  he  can  get  a  free  bed?  " 

He  looked  at  me  with  an  amused  smile.  "  You 
are  up  against  it,  too,  are  you,  Jack?  Well, 
I  am  broke,  too,  and  the  only  free  bed  I  know  of 
is  the  kind  I  am  sleeping  in,  and  that's  an  oven  at 
the  brick  yards.  A  lot  of  us  boys  go  out  there 
during  these  slack  times." 

"  An  oven  at  the  brick  yards ! "  I  said  in  aston- 
ishment. "  How  do  you  get  there?  " 

"  Well,  you  go  out  Larimer  Street  to  Twenty- 
third,  then  you  turn  out  Twenty-third  and  cross 
Twenty-third  Street  viaduct.  It's  about  two  miles. 
You'll  know  the  kilns  when  you  come  to  them ;  you 
can't  miss  them.  But  don't  go  before  eleven 
o'clock;  the  ovens  are  not  cool  enough  before  that 
time." 

"  To-night  I  sleep  in  an  oven  at  the  brick  yards," 
I  said  to  myself,  with  cast-iron  determination. 

It  was  a  very  cold  night,  but  at  eleven  o'clock  I 
started  out  Larimer  Street  to  find  my  free  bed. 
Having  crossed  the  Twenty-third  Street  viaduct  I 
was  lost  in  darkness;  there  were  no  lights  save  in 
the  far  distance.  I  stumbled  along  over  the  frozen 
ground,  fearing  at  any  moment  an  attack,  for 
Denver  is  not  free  from  hold-ups.  I  could  hear 
men's  voices,  but  could  see  nothing.  It  was  not 
a  pleasure-outing  except  as  the  thrill  caused  by  the 
swift  approach  of  the  unknown  may  be  pleasurably 


14  "BROKE" 

exciting.  Finally  the  lights  of  the  brick  yard  shone 
upon  me  with  its  great,  long  rows  of  flaming  kilns. 
I  had  arrived  at  my  novel  dormitory.  Stepping 
up  to  a  stoker  at  work  near  the  entrance,  I  asked : 

"  Can  you  show  a  fellow  where  he  can  find  a  place 
to  lie  down  out  of  the  cold?  " 

He  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  me,  and  said, 
"  I'll  show  you  a  place."  Leaning  his  shovel 
against  the  kiln,  and  picking  up  his  lantern,  he 
said,  "  Come  with  me."  He  paused  at  a  kiln. 
"  Some  of  the  boys  are  sleeping  in  here  to-night." 
I  followed  as  he  entered  the  low,  narrow  opening  of 
a  kiln  and  raised  his  light.  We  were  in  a  round 
oven  or  kiln  about  forty  feet  in  circumference.  By 
the  light  of  his  lifted  lantern  I  counted  thirty 
men. 

"  There  are  about  seventy  sleeping  in  the  empty 
kilns  to-night;  I  think  you  will  find  a  place  to  lie 
down  there,"  he  said,  as  he  pointed  to  a  place  be- 
tween two  men. 

I  at  once  lay  down,  and  with  a  "  Good-night  "  he 
left  me  to  the  darkness  and  to  the  company  of  those 
homeless  sleepers,  who,  in  all  our  great  city,  could 
find  no  other  refuge  from  death. 

The  kiln  was  so  desperately  hot  that  I  could  not 
sleep,  and  habit  had  not  inured  me  to  that  kind 
of  bed.  Had  I  been  half-starved,  weak,  and  ex- 
hausted, as  were  most  of  my  companions,  I,  too, 
could  have  slept,  and  perhaps  would  have  wanted 
to  sleep  on  forever.  No  one  spoke  to  me.  I  en- 


WELCOME  IN   CITY  BEAUTIFUL     15 

dured  the  night  by  going  at  intervals  to  the  kiln's 
opening  for  fresh  air.  It  was  then  when  I  looked 
up  into  the  deep,  dark,  frozen  sky,  that  I  thought 
what  a  vast  difference  there  is  in  being  a  destitute 
man  from  choice  and  a  destitute  man  from  neces- 
sity. At  four  o'clock  the  time  for  a  fresh  firing 
of  the  kilns,  we  were  driven  from  the  great  heat  of 
that  place  out  into  the  bitter  cold  of  the  winter 
morning.  Very  few  of  the  men  had  any  kind  of 
extra  coat,  but,  thinly  clad  as  they  were,  they  must 
walk  the  streets  until  six  o'clock,  waiting  for  the 
saloons  or  some  other  public  places  to  be  opened. 
Their  suffering  was  pitiful.  I  afterward  learned 
that  many  of  these  men,  from  this  exposure,  con- 
tracted pneumonia,  and  from  this  and  many  other 
exposures  filled  to  overflowing  the  hospitals  of  the 
city. 

During  the  entire  week  I  followed  up  my  investi- 
gations. I  found  men  sleeping  in  almost  unthink- 
able places;  in  the  sand-houses  and  the  round- 
houses of  the  railroad  companies,  when  they  had 
touched  the  heart  of  the  watchman. 

I  asked  one  of  the  railway  men  why  the  companies 
drove  them  away  from  this  bit  of  comfort  and 
shelter. 

"  Because  they  steal,"  was  his  reply. 

"  What  do  they  steal?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  the  supper  pail  of  the  man  who  comes  to 
work  all  night,  an  old  sack  worth  a  nickel,  a  piece 
of  brass  or  iron,  or  part  of  the  equipment  from  a 


16  ''BROKE" 

Pullman  car,  or  anything  they  can  sell  for  enough  to 
buy  a  meal,  or  a  bed,  or  a  drink." 

"  Do  they  steal  those  little  things  because  they 
are  hungry?  "  I  questioned. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  said  with  a  shrug. 
"  They  are  often  so  successful  in  not  being  detected, 
I  expect  that  has  made  them  bold.  Some  may  have 
been  hungry,"  he  said,  after  a  thoughtful  pause. 
"  Work  has  been  scarce  and  hard  to  find,  you  know." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  they  have,  no  doubt,  tramped 
the  streets  for  many  a  day,  footsore,  dirty,  ragged, 
and  penniless  and  worst  of  all,  discouraged  and 
desperate.  They  must  have  clothing  and  food  as 
well  as  a  place  to  sleep.  Without  this  they  must 
suffer  and  die.  They  are  haunted  by  this  fear  of 
death,  knowing  well  what  hunger  and  exposure 
means  and  the  utter  impossibility  of  securing  work 
with  their  ragged  appearance." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  man,  patiently  listening 
to  my  growing  realization  of  their  desperation. 
"  When  they  become  bolder  and  break  into  a  freight 
car  to  steal  something,  if  not  of  much  real  value,  or 
something  to  eat,  they  are  usually  caught  and 
thrown  into  jail.  But  they  can't  stop  to  think  of 
that,  I  suppose;  the  poor  devils  have  got  to  live. 
You  mustn't  give  me  away,"  he  added  confidentially, 
"  but  I  know  a  special  agent  for  a  big  railroad  com- 
pany who  made  a  boast  of  the  number  of  men  he 
had  sent  to  the  reformatory  and  put  in  the  peni- 
tentiary the  past  year." 


"~J    ~. 

<-§ 

••5'  = 


to 

2.  s 


a-  <g 


I  slept,  or  rather  endured,  the  next  night,  with 
thirteen  men  who  were  sleeping  in  a  box  car  on  a 
bed  of  straw.  Some  were  smoking.  Is  it  any 
wonder  that  many  thousands  of  dollars'  worth  of 
property  are  destroyed  by  fire  in  one  night?  I 
found  men  asleep  in  vacant  houses  with  old  rags 
and  paper  for  beds.  They  also  smoked,  and  en- 
dangered not  only  this  house  but  the  entire  city; 
besides,  they  often  robbed  the  house  of  everything 
available,  to  satisfy  their  hunger.  I  found  them 
sleeping  in  the  loft  of  barns,  the  only  covering  the 
hay  under  which  they  crawled.  I  found  them 
under  platforms  of  warehouses  with  pieces  of  dirty 
old  gunnysacks,  or  a  piece  of  old  canvas  for  a  cover- 
ing. I  found  them  curled  down  in  the  tower  of 
the  switchmen,  in  empty  cellars,  in  vat-rooms  in 
breweries,  in  hallways,  driven  from  one  to  the( 
other,  and  some  "  carrying  the  banner  " — walking 
the  streets  all  night.  J__£o»ndr  th^m  in  the  rear-  \ 
ways  of  saloons,  on  and  beneath  their  tables,  and 
last,  but  not  least,  in  that  damnable,  iniquitous/ 
hole,  the  bull-pen  in  the  city  jail. 

A  few  short  years  ago  —  the  date  and  name  is 
of  no  moment  —  a  young  man  eighteen  years  of  age 
was  shot  to  death  by  a  policeman  in  Denver.  I 
went  to  the  morgue  and  looked  on  the  white,  silent 
face  of  the  murdered  boy.  His  mother  wired, 
"  Can't  come  to  bury  him ;  too  poor."  And  so  he 
was  laid  in  a  pauper's  grave;  no,  not  a  pauper's 
grave,  but  a  criminal's. 


18  "BROKE" 

I  have  noticed  in  my  investigations  in  all 
the  police  systems  of  our  various  municipalities 
—  I  exempt  none  —  that  where  someone  has  been 
murdered,  or  a  sick  man  has  been  thrown  into  jail 
and  his  life  taken  there,  or  some  other  outrage  has 
been  committed  by  their  wicked  policies,  they  al- 
ways try  to  blanket  the  wrong  by  making  a  public 
statement  that  the  victim  had  "  a  record  "  and  was 
well  known  to  the  police.  _4 

According  to  the  newspapers,  this  young  man's 
diary  showed  that  he  had  been  in  the  State  seventy- 
four  days  and  out  of  the  seventy -four  days  he  had 
worked  sixty-four ;  but  —  convincing  proof  of  his 
outlawry  —  they  found  on  him  a  match-safe  that 
a  man  declared  had  been  stolen  from  him.  As  I 
looked  on  that  dead  boy's  face  I  seemed  to  read, 
above  all  else,  kindness.  Had  he  been  kind  to 
someone ;  in  return,  had  this  match-safe  been  given 
to  him?  Hundreds  of  times  have  I  seen  these 
tokens  of  appreciation  given:  match-safes,  knives, 
and  even  clothes  from  one  out-of-work  man  to  an- 
other—  even  an  old  brass  watch  that  the  pawn- 
shop man  considered  of  no  value.  The  match-safe 
may  have  been  given  to  this  young  fellow  by  a 
hardened  criminal  with  whom  circumstances  had 
forced  him  to  associate. 

"  He  ran  from  the  officer."  If  you,  my  reader, 
had  ever  been  forced,  as  a  lodger  or  a  suspect,  to 
spend  a  night  in  a  western  city  jail,  you  would  take 


WELCOME  IN  CITY  BEAUTIFUL     19 

the  chances  of  getting  away  by  running  rather  than 
face  that  ordeal  again. 

I  was  so  deeply  impressed  by  the  injustice  of 
this  legal  murder  that,  under  a  nom  de  plume,  I 
wrote  a  letter  of  defense  for  the  boy  to  his  mother, 
a  copy  of  which  I  sent  to  the  press.  It  reached  the 
governing  powers  of  the  city,  but  not  the  public. 
Almost  immediately  the  officer  was  arrested,  tried, 
—  and  acquitted. 

After  my  investigations  in  Denver  had  revealed 
such  startling  conditions  of  those  who  must  toil 
and  suffer,  my  first  impulse  was  to  fly  to  the 
Church.  I  thought  I  had  reason  to  believe  the 
Church  stood  for  compassion,  mercy,  and  pity.  I 
approached,  therefore,  several  of  our  leading 
clergymen.  My  first  appeal  was  to  the  pastor  of  the 
Christian  Church,  and  his  reply  was : 

"  My  friend,  if  you  succeed  in  getting  a  free 
Municipal  Emergency  Home  for  Denver,  you  will 
build  a  monument  for  yourself." 

To  this  I  answered :  "  I  have  no  desire  to  build 
a  monument ;  I  want  our  city  to  build  a  shelter  for 
those  who  may  be  temporarily  destitute  among 
us." 

Another,  a  Baptist,  asked  if  it  were  Christian. 
I  turned  from  this  reverend  gentleman  with 
the  belief  that  in  his  study  of  the  Scriptures  he  had 
omitted  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  First  Corinth- 
ians, in  which,  I  believe,  the  substitution  of  the 


20  "BROKE" 

word  love  for  charity  is  conceded  correct  by  the 
highest  authority. 

To  another,  a  Methodist,  I  said,  "Won't  you 
speak  a  word  to  your  people  that  an  interest  may 
be  aroused  to  relieve  the  hardships  of  those  who 
toil,  who  happen  to  be  without  money,  and  have  no 
place  to  rest?  "  With  a  forced  expression,  he  re- 
plied, "  I  don't  believe  in  the  homeless  and  out-of- 
work.  I  have  found  them  undeserving  and  dis- 
honest." I  could  only  ask  what  our  Savior  meant 
by  "  the  least  of  these,"  and  reminded  him  that  the 
last  words  Christ  spoke  before  His  crucifixion  were 
to  a  thief. 

I  then  made  my  way  to  the  home  of  the  Presby- 
terian pastor  of  the  largest  and  most  influential 
church  in  the  city.  I  did  not  succeed  in  seeing  the 
leader  of  this  ecclesiastical  society,  but  as  I  passed,  I 
could  look  into  the  basement  of  the  brightly  lighted 
church,  and  I  saw  approximately  fifty  Japanese 
being  taught  —  aliens  who  did  not  want  our  reli- 
gion, but  did  want  our  language  and  modern  ideas. 

Going  to  the  president  of  the  Ministerial  Alli- 
ance, I  asked  to  be  heard,  but  they  had  no  time  to 
listen.  I  then  went  to  the  Y.  M.  O.  A.  and  the 
president  said,  "  You  can't  expect  every  fellow  to 
throw  up  his  hat  for  your  concern."  Paradoxical 
as  it  may  seem,  the  only  three  societies  whom  I 
asked  for  aid,  who  turned  me  down,  were  the  Min- 
isterial Alliance,  the  Bartenders'  Union,  and  the 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  Later,  the  Women's  Clubs,  Labor 


WELCOME  IN   CITY  BEAUTIFUL     21 

Councils,  and  the  Medical  Societies  were  my  warm- 
est friends. 

I  then  went  to  those  in  authority  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  our  city,  and  among  the  many  objections 
raised  to  my  plea,  the  first  was  there  were  other 
things  that  needed  attention  more.  For  instance, 
there  were  overcrowded  hospitals,  which  must  be 
enlarged.  The  sick,  I  was  told,  wrere  lying  on  the 
floors,  and  several  children  were  being  placed  in 
one  bed,  just  as  they  are  doing  in  Chicago  to-day. 

Then  it  was  declared  we  would  pauperize  the 
people;  we  would  encourage  idleness  instead  of 
thrift.  My  investigations  had  taujrht  me  how  use- 
less it  is  to  talk  ethics  to  a  man  with  ;in  pr*."*"fy  stom- 
ach. The  Municipal  Emergency  Home  I  believed 
would  encourage  thrift  instead  of  idleness. 

And  then  our  chief  executive  declared  that  some- 
thing effectual  should  be  done  to  keep  out  of  our 
State  the  army  of  consumptives  who  come  to  Colo- 
rado. I  could  hardly  see  how  that  would  be  quite 
just  or  right.  But  I  could  see,  I  thought,  how  the 
Municipal  Emergency  Home,  rightly  built  and  con- 
ducted, with  its  sanitary  measures  would  be  a 
mighty  influence  in  our  combat  against  the  great 
white  plague.  Then  the  all-powerful  declared  the 
city  could  not  afford  it  —  the  old  cry  of  every  city 
administration,  where  the  political  boss  and  ma- 
chine politics  rule,  when  it  comes  to  creating  an 
institution  that  is  not  in  tune  with  their  policies. 

Being  abruptly  asked  what  I  knew  about  Muni- 


22  "BROKE" 

cipal  Emergency  Homes,  I  was  forced  to  confess 
that  I  had  no  knowledge  whatever.  I  realized  the 
need  of  information.  I  did  not  even  know  there 
was  in  existence  on  this  whole  earth  of  ours  such 
an  institution  as  I  was  asking  Denver  to  build. 

I  have  been  greatly  misunderstood  in  regard  to 
the  class  and  character  of  the  destitute  for  whom 
I  am  asking  favor.  That  I  can  now  clearly  ex- 
plain, for  what  I  found  true  in  Denver  in  a  small 
way  I  found  true  in  every  other  city  I  visited.  I 
classify  them  in  two  groups, —  the  unfortunate  and 
the  itinerant  worker.  Ninety  per  cent.,  taken  as  a 
whole  throughout  our  country,  are  of  the  latter. 
The  former  and  smaller  percentage  are  chained  by 
habits  of  vice,  which  our  social  system  has  forced 
upon  them,  or  are  physically  weak,  made  so,  many 
of  them,  in  our  prisons.  And  while,  first,  my  plea 
is  for  the  upright  wage-earner,  I  am  broad  enough 
to  feel  that  if  we  have  been  criminally  thoughtless 
and  negligent  enough  to  allow  social  evils  to  exist 
and  make  derelicts  and  dependents,  we  certainly 
ought  to  be  honest  enough  to  stand  the  conse- 
quences and  give  them  at  least  a  place  of  shelter. 

But  the  4,000,000  homeless,  honest  toilers  with 
us  to-day  affect  the  welfare  of  every  home  in  our 
nation.  They  are  an  important  force  and  factor  in 
society.  A  moment's  reflection  will  show  us  quickly 
hundreds  of  good  reasons  wThy  many  of  them  at 
times  should  be  moneyless  and  shelterless.  As  I 


throw  back  the  curtain  on  these  stories  of  human 
interest,  I  trust  we  may  all  of  us  catch  forcibly 
the  evident  need  of  not  sitting  idly  by,  supinely 
asking  a  good  God  to  help  us,  but  rather  of  letting 
our  petition  in  word  and  act  be  a  living  prayer  in 
helping  Him. 

The  boy  whom  I  met  on  our  Denver  street,  whose 
condition  I  have  described,  can  justly  go  to  the 
Lord  and  complain,  as  well  as  proclaim  to  the 
world,  that  the  City  Beautiful  held  no  welcome  for 
him  while  in  need  of  life's  direst  necessities.  It  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  so-called  Christian 
people  of  the  City  and  County  of  Denver  have  for- 
gotten that  it  is  not  enough  to  have  a  twenty-five 
thousand  dollar  Welcome  Arch  of  myriads  of 
sparkling  lights,  heralding  to  the  world  its  hospi- 
tality to  those  entering  its  gate,  and  then  forget 
their  Christian  duty  to  their  fellow-men  in  need, 
for  the  City  and  County  of  Denver  has  been  in  a 
political  turmoil  and  has  been  concerned  not  so 
much  with  the  preservation  of  human  rights  as 
with  the  preservation  of  property  rights.  There  is 
no  other  city  in  the  region  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
that  could  better  afford  to  give  a  real  welcome  to 
the  wandering  citizen,  the  harvester  and  the 
builder,  than  Denver. 

A  city  whose  tax  payers  have  permitted  waste 
and  extravagance  to  the  extent  of  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  dollars,  in  the  expenditure  of  the  tax 
payer's  money,  surely  could  afford  to  create  and 


24  "BROKE" 

maintain  an  institution  where  the  wandering  citi- 
zen, the  homeless  wage  earner,  may  find  a  Christian 
welcome  and  humane  care. 

If  this  boy  should  have  attempted  to  go  to  the 
local  charity  organization,  and  had  not  been  told 
that  the  Society  did  not  help  "  floaters,"  as  I  have 
known  men  in  other  cities  to  be  told,  he  would 
undoubtedly  have  been  informed,  after  going 
through  a  humiliating  inquisition,  that  his  case 
would  be  investigated  and  if  found  worthy  relief 
afforded  to  him  after  such  investigation.  Imagine 
a  hungry,  homeless,  penniless  man,  who  must  have 
whatever  help  he  can  get  immediately,  being  told 
that  his  case  will  be  investigated  and  relief  afforded 
at  some  later  date!  What  is  a  man  in  this  condi- 
tion to  do?  Did  not  the  charity  organization  to 
whom  the  tax  payers  give  money  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  relieving  the  needy  and  distressed, 
compel  this  very  individual  to  beg,  to  accost  the 
citizens  on  the  streets  who  have  already  subscribed 
for  his  relief,  and  to  still  continue  to  beg  from 
them?  Does  not  such  a  charitable  organization, 
by  the  acquiescence  of  the  citizens  of  the  city,  put 
a  premium  on  this  hungry,  homeless  man  to  go  and 
shift  for  himself  as  best  he  may,  either  by  accosting 
citizens  who  have  already  been  burdened  by  his 
relief,  or  by  stealing,  robbing,  and  if  necessary 
demanding  a  life,  to  satisfy  the  needs  whereby  his 
existence  may  be  made  possible? 

It  is  time  that   the   citizens   of   the   City   and 


WELCOME  IN  CITY  BEAUTIFUL     25 

County  of  Denver,  and  for  that  matter,  of  all  other 
municipalities  of  the  United  States,  shall  awaken 
to  the  call  of  duty  in  their  respective  communities 
in  dealing  rightly  with  those  who  are  their  wards, 
if  they  desire  to  minimize  instead  of  increase  the 
evils  of  pauperism  brought  about  by  indiscriminate 
alms-giving. 

A  great  many  times,  through  political  intrigues, 
we  find  people  at  the  head  of  charity  organizations 
in  our  cities  that  have  no  business  to  be  there. 
Their  appointment  to  such  places,  in  many  in- 
stances, is  purely  political,  and  they  are,  therefore, 
not  competent  to  dispense  the  money  subscribed  by 
the  tax  payers  of  the  community.  Very  often  only 
those  individuals  can  receive  consideration  at  the 
hands  of  such  officials  who  bring  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction, or  have  some  personal  political  "  pull," 
while  an  honest  and  deserving  man,  coming  from 
some  other  portion  of  the  City  or  State,  without 
any  acquaintance  whatsoever  in  the  community  in 
which  he  finds  himself  stranded,  may  receive  no 
consideration  whatever  at  the  hands  of  such  so- 
called  administrators  of  public  charity. 

It  has  been  conclusively  proven  that  the  chari- 
table endeavors  of  our  so-called  charity  organiza- 
tion societies  are  extremely  unscientific,  wasteful, 
and  have  a  detrimental  and  pauperizing  effect  in- 
so-far  as  the  work  of  the  charitable  is  devoted  to 
reclamation  and  not  to  prevention,  which  is  also 
one  cause  for  its  failure. 


26  "BROKE" 

Consider  a  moment  one  startling  fact  evidencing 
the  spirit  shown  by  organized  charity  in  its  effort 
so  evidently  to  refrain  from  helping  the  needy :  I 
found  during  my  personal  investigations  that  the 
societies  keep  banking  hours  from  nine  to  five 
o'clock,  and  are  closed  at  noon  on  Saturdays! 
From  noon  on  Saturday  to  nine  on  Monday,  is  it 
not  possible  that  some  needy  one  in  distress  may 
need  help? 

Readiness  on  the  part  of  the  private  citizen  to 
subordinate  personal  interests  to  the  public  wel- 
fare is  a  sure  sign  of  political  health ;  and  readiness 
on  the  part  of  public  officials  to  use  public  offices 
for  private  gain  is  an  equally  sure  sign  of  disease. 
Every  municipality,  by  reason  of  its  organization, 
supported  by  all  of  its  citizens,  ought  to  supply 
all  communal  needs,  instead  of  permitting  certain 
special  interests  under  the  guise  of  "  religious " 
and  "  charity  "  organizations  to  administer  to  the 
needs  of  the  less  fortunate  members  of  the  commu- 
nity. 

There  are  two  very  important  facts  that  occupy 
the  center  of  the  stage  of  our  complex  civilization, 
to  which  all  other  facts  are  tributary,  and  which 
for  good  or  ill  are  conceded  to  be  of  supreme  im- 
portance. They  are  the  rise  of  scientific  and  dem- 
ocratic administration  of  all  the  needs  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  the  decline  of  private,  special  interests, 
clinging  to  the  preservation  of  property  rights  as 
against  human  rights. 


Determined  is  the  demand  of  the  people  for  a 
controlling  voice  in  their  destinies.  The  disinher- 
ited classes  are  refusing  to  remain  disinherited. 
Every  device  within  the  wit  of  man  has  been  sought 
to  keep  them  down,  and  all  devices  have  come  to 
naught.  The  efforts  of  the  people  to  throw  off 
their  oppressors  have  not  always  been  wise,  but  they 
have  been  noble,  self-sacrificing. 

The  report  of  charities  and  corrections  at  At- 
lanta for  1903  states  that  from  among  thirty  of  the 
leading  cities  of  our  nation,  Denver  is  the  only  city 
reported  as  being  severe  toward  its  toilers,  particu- 
larly toward  that  class  which  it  is  pleased  to  call 
"  beggars "  and  "  vagrants."  Personal  observa- 
tion, however,  proved  to  me  that  many  other  cities 
in  the  list  were  equally  as  cruel,  and  yet  it  is 
astounding  to  note  in  this  report  that  the  arrests 
in  Denver  for  the  crime  of  being  poor  —  begging 
and  vagrancy  —  which  has  undoubtedly  corre- 
spondingly increased  with  the  city's  growth  in  the 
following  years,  was  6763,  while  New  York  City's 
for  the  corresponding  crime,  and  same  period  of 
time  was,  for  begging,  430 ;  for  vagrancy,  523 ;  and 
Chicago,  for  begging,  338 ;  for  vagrancy,  523.  This 
is  approximately  Denver's  ratio  with  all  of  the 
other  cities  in  the  report. 


CHAPTER  III 

CHICAGO  —  A  LANDLORD  FOR  ITS  HOMELESS 
WORKERS 

"  These  hints  dropped  as  it  were  from  sleep  and  night  let  us 
use  in  broad  day."  —  EMKSSON. 

ON  a  stormy  night  in  February,  1909,  I  ar- 
rived at  the  Auditorium  Annex  in  Chi- 
cago. Donning  my  worker's  outfit  and 
covering  my  entire  person  with  a  large,  long  coat, 
unnoticed  I  left  the  hotel.  Leaving  the  coat  at  a 
convenient  place,  I  appeared  an  out-of-work  money- 
less man,  seeking  assistance  in  this  mighty  Ameri- 
can industrial  center.  I  made  my  way  down  Van 
Buren  Street.  Though  the  hour  was  late,  there 
were  many  people  abroad  and  almost  every  man, 
judging  from  his  appearance,  seemed  to  be  needy. 
Stepping  up  to  one  on  the  corner  of  Clark  Street, 
who  seemed  to  be  a  degree  less  prosperous  than  alt 
the  rest,  I  said,  in  the  language  of  the  army  who 
struggle : 

"  Say,  Jack,  can  you  tell  a  fellow  where  he  can 
find  a  free  flop?" 

He  raised  his  hand  and  pointed  toward  a  stair- 

28 


CHICAGO  29 

way  which  led  up  over  a  large  saloon,  "  You  can 
flop  on  the  floor  up  there  for  a  nickle." 

"  But  I  am  up  against  it  right,  pal.  I  am  shy 
the  coin  for  even  that  to-night." 

Stepping  up  a  little  nearer  to  me  and  drawing 
more  closely  his  tattered  rag  of  a  coat  about  his 
frail,  half-starved  body,  he  replied : 

"  Honest  to  God,  Shorty,  I  have  only  a  dime  my- 
self, but  say,  this  is  a  fierce  night  to  carry  the  ban- 
ner. If  you  don't  get  a  place,  come  back.  I  can 
get  along  without  my  '  coffee  and  '  for  once." 

There  are  many  places  in  Chicago  where  a  poor 
man  can  get  a  strengthless  cup  of  coffee  and  rolls 
for  a  nickle.  One-half  of  this  man's  dime  he  pro- 
posed to  spend  for  this  supper,  and  the  other  half 
he  would  give  me  to  provide  the  "  flop  "  on  the  floor 
he  had  told  me  of. 

He  continued,  "  I  am  in  line  for  a  pearl-diver's 
(dishwasher's)  job  to-morrow.  That  means  all  a 
fellow  can  chew  anyway.  I  can  do  better  work 
than  that,  but  when  a  fellow  is  down  on  his  luck  — 
but  say,  Shorty,"  he  added  abruptly,  as  we  moved 
to  part,  "  if  you  don't  have  a  windfall  like  the  An- 
nex, Palmer,  or  the  First  National  Bank,  go  over 
on  the  West  Side ;  you'll  find  a  free  flop,  and  maybe 
between  the  sheets,  and  maybe  a  bath  and  supper ; 
but  look  out  for  bulls  and  fly  cops,  and  don't  go  too 
often,  for  you're  liable  to  be  arrested  and  sent  to 
the  Bridewell.  I  have  been  out  of  a  job  for  two 
weeks.  I  have  been  to  the  flop  several  times,  and 


30  "BROKE" 

I  am  afraid  to  go  any  more.  I  have  had  so  little 
to  eat  lately,  and  from  all  I  hear,  I  don't  think  I 
am  strong  enough  for  the  battle  of  a  workhouse; 
besides,  I  have  never  been  in.  Well,  never  mind, 
old  man,  you  can  find  the  place.  It's  on  Union 
Street,  just  off  of  West  Madison,  called  '  The  City 
Lodging  House.' " 

How  those  last  three  words  thrilled  me!  I  who 
in  fancy  for  months  had  been  building  a  Munici- 
pal Emergency  Home,  rounding  out  and  perfecting 
in  my  mind  all  of  its  wonderful  possibilities! 
There  was  then  such  an  institution  in  the  world,  and 
here  in  Chicago,  and  in  a  moment's  time  I  was  to 
grasp  the  tangible  fact ! 

As  I  made  my  way  toward  my  destination  I  saw 
evidence  of  the  brutal  police  system,  so  notoriously 
obvious  throughout  our  entire  country.  I  had 
seen  a  half-starved,  homeless  man  knocked  down  on 
the  streets  of  a  Western  city  by  an  ignorant,  rum- 
befouled  bully  of  a  policeman,  simply  because  he 
stood  a  little  too  far  out  on  the  sidewalk,  and  with 
a  desire  to  learn  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  po- 
lice force  of  Chicago,  I  made  my  way  to  the  Des- 
plains  Street  Police  Station,  although  possessed 
with  a  foreboding  that  I  might  be  arrested,  and 
subjected  to  some  insult  or  abuse. 

With  a  thumping  heart  under  a  false  air  of  com- 
placency I  entered  and  asked  the  Captain  where  I 
could  find  a  free  bed.  He  looked  pleasantly 
enough  upon  me,  and  in  words  which  held  a  tone 


CHICAGO  31 

of  pride  that  lie  could  do  so,  replied,  "  Why,  yes, 
go  to  our  Municipal  Lodging  House,"  and  turning 
to  a  subordinate,  said,  "  Show  this  man  the  direc- 
tion to  North  Union  Street."  The  under  officer 
pointed  out  the  proper  course,  and  I  was  soon  lost 
in  a  maze  of  brilliant,  scintillating,  cheap  saloon, 
cafe,  and  playhouse  signs  along  West  Madison 
Street.  The  half-hidden,  frost-covered  windows  of 
restaurants  were  filled  with  tempting,  wholesome 
food.  The  sparkling  bar-room  signs  were  a  guide 
to  warmth  and  temporary  shelter.  I  reached  North 
Union  Street,  and  looking  down  an  almost  black 
street  with  occasionally  a  dim  distant  light,  I  saw 
no  sign  guiding  the  homeless  man  or  boy,  woman 
or  girl,  to  Chicago's  gift  to  its  penniless  toilers. 

With  fear  and  difficulty  I  found  an  old  shell  of 
a  building.  Arriving  too  late  for  a  bed,  I  was  al- 
lowed to  lie  down  with  sixty  others,  from  boys  of 
fifteen  to  old  men  of  seventy,  on  the  floor.  In  the 
foul  air,  unwashed,  unfed,  with  my  shoes  for  a  pil- 
low, with  aching  limbs,  I  endured,  until  daybreak, 
the  sufferings  which  the  temporarily  homeless  wan- 
derer must  suffer  often  many  days  until,  if  he  does 
not  find  himself  in  some  one  of  the  other  public  in- 
stitutions, he  finds  work  and  can  again  enjoy  the 
comforts  of  a  bed.  And  yet,  how  much  this  all 
meant  to  me!  I  did  not  sleep  a  moment  of  the 
night,  yet  above  the  dark  side  of  it  all,  I  caught  the 
bright  light  of  the  golden  thought  behind  this  in- 
stitution, for  the  establishment  of  which  the  City 


32  "BROKE" 

Homes  Association,  whose  president  was  Mrs.  Em- 
inons  Blaine,  took  the  initiative,  and  which  Ray- 
mond Robins  worked  into  a  tentative  establishment. 

Several  years  have  passed  since  my  first  experi- 
ence in  Chicago.  At  that  time  I  was  deeply  im- 
pressed with  the  fact  that  the  city  had  not  forgotten. 
My  criticism  was  extremely  friendly.  The  superin- 
tendent wrote,  thanking  me  for  my  investigations, 
saying  he  believed  it  would  help  promote  better 
things  in  Chicago  in  caring  for  its  homeless  work- 
ers. But  I  was  disappointed.  To-day  you  walk 
through  West  Madison  Street  to  Union  Street, 
to  Chicago's  free  "  flop."  On  your  right  you  will 
notice  a  magnificent  new  railway  station,  which,  its 
owners  boast,  cost  twenty-five  millions  of  dollars. 
Possibly  at  the  very  doorstep  of  this  marvelous 
terminal,  destitute  men  will  ask  you  for  help. 

And  a  little  further  along,  should  you  glance  up 
at  No.  623,  you  will  read  this  sign,  "  The  Salvation 
Army  will  occupy  here  a  new  six-story  fireproof 
hotel,  to  be  known  as  the  Workingman's  Palace. 
Rates  15  cents  to  30  cents  per  night,  f  1  to  $2  per 
week." 

You  have  reached  Union  Street,  and  you  enter 
the  same  dark  old  street  and  the  same  old  make- 
shift of  an  old  building  which  thirty-five  years 
ago  was  a  police  station  and  later  a  storeroom  for 
city  wagons,  until  made  into  a  "  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Home."  This  shell  accommodates  only 


£?TEPPL\G  Up  a  Little  Xearer  lo  Me  He  Drew 
More  Closely  His  Tattered  Rag  of  a  Coat  " 


IJ  UDDLED  on  a  Stringer  in  Zero  Weather 


CHICAGO  33 

two  hundred  and  fifty  men,  and  on  many  a  night 
during  the  last  winter  it  has  sheltered  five  hundred 
men,  besides  as  many  more  in  the  "  annex."  There 
are  four  thousand  in  Chicago  every  winter's  night 
without  a  bed  or  the  money  to  buy  a  bed.  There 
are  five  thousand  men  in  Chicago  who  are  willing 
to  work  ten  long  hours  a  day  for  a  dollar  a  day, 
and  this  lodging-house  can  furnish  two  hundred 
men  a  day  at  that  wage.  Last  year  the  ice  com- 
panies, the  street  railway  companies,  and  the 
packing-houses  paid  $1.75,  and  this  past  winter  only 
$  1.50,  and  out  of  that  these  men  paid  $4.50  a  week 
for  board.  That  these  men  are  willing  to  work  for 
such  wages  shows  that  a  large  proportion  who  seek 
this  free  shelter  are  honest  workers.  The  chief  of 
police  gave  orders  and  notice  that  men  would  no 
longer  be  sheltered  in  the  police  stations,  and  yet 
on  one  winter  day  an  official  of  the  Emergency 
Home  marched  sixty-eight  down  to  a  station  and 
demanded  they  be  taken  in. 

Follow  this  official  through  the  institution  and 
he  will  show  you  how  he  stores  men  away  in  every 
nook  available,  even  allowing  many  to  sit  up  all 
night  on  the  stairs.  He  will  show  you  how  men 
lie  down  under  and  between  the  cots  of  those  who 
are  fortunate  enough  to  get  a  cot  itself.  He  will 
show  you  in  one  end  of  the  dormitory,  on  filthy 
blankets  and  mattresses,  men  huddled  and  packed 
like  swine,  and  he  will  tell  you  that  in  the  morning 
these  men  receive  a  certain  portion  of  a  loaf  of 


34  "BROKE" 

bread  and  a  cup  of  a  decoction  called  coffee ;  and  yet 
those  men  are  willing  to  go  out  and  work  in  the 
storm  and  cold  for  a  dollar  or  a  dollar  and  a  half 
a  day.  What  a  commentary  on  the  humanity  of  a 
city  that  is  willing  to  see  this  strength  crippled! 
What  a  lack  of  ordinary  business  foresight  to  ignore 
the  conservation  of  this  human  force ! 

You  will  find  in  this  Municipal  free  "  flop  "  of 
Chicago  no  department  for  women.  Thank  God 
for  that!  You  will  find  no  separation  of  the  sick 
from  the  well;  you  will  find  no  medical  examina- 
tion other  than  vaccination.  Such  a  lodging- 
house  is  an  institution  driving  men  into  intem- 
perance,; filling  our  hospitals,  and  spreading  with 
frightful  fatality  the  white  plague. 

Those  who  come  from  abroad  to  learn  of  Chicago, 
and  what  it  has  done  and  is  doing  to  banish  desti- 
tution and  its  specter  of  homeless  suffering  from 
its  streets,  may  first  visit  the  public  institutions 
representing  a  city's  intelligence  —  the  Art  Insti- 
tute, standing  for  its  culture;  its  churches,  char- 
ities and  hospitals,  representing  its  humanity. 
But  they  should  also  follow  the  course  I  traveled, 
to  Chicago's  so-called  Municipal  Lodging  House, 
even  though  it  will  mean  a  sad  reflection  upon  a 
city's  care  for  its  homeless  workers. 

Chicago  is  considered  one  of  the  greatest  rail- 
road centers  of  America;  it  is  the  hub  of  the  fly 
wheel,  East  and  West,  North  and  South,  of  a  mighty 


CHICAGO  35 

railroad  industry.  The  old  proverb,  that  "all 
roads  lead  to  Rome,"  can  certainly  be  applied  to 
this  of  the  greatest,  most  remarkable  of  all  modern 
industrial  phenomena  —  the  Metropolis  without  a 
peer.  It  is  estimated  that  there  are  over  half  a 
hundred  different  railroad  lines  running  in  and 
out  of  the  city,  all  bringing  their  quota  of  human 
energy  and  activity  to  be  molded  into  the  great 
mass  of  industrial  humanity  of  the  greatest  of  in- 
dustrial giants  —  Chicago. 

A  very  prominent  railroad  official  of  a  Western 
railroad  declared  that  the  railroad  "  in  a  way  may 
be  called  the  chief  citizen  of  the  State."  If  this 
statement  be  true,  one  cannot  but  acclaim  that  a 
mighty  responsibility  rests  upon  it.  First  of  all 
it  means  that  a  transformation  of  heart  and  sys- 
tem must  take  place  toward  the  wandering  citizen, 
the  homeless  wage-earner, —  an  absolutely  different 
method  and  a  cessation  of  the  present  inhuman 
brutality. 

The  one  wonderful  and  most  hopeful  sign  of  our 
day  is  that  members  of  the  great  human  family  are 
beginning  to  recognize,  in  all  phases  of  human 
endeavor,  that  our  social  life  is  absolutely  depen- 
dent upon  the  co-operation  and  social  service  of 
one  another.  While  the  writer  has  a  strong  in- 
dictment to  offer  against  the  managements  of  the 
various  American  railroads  in  dealing  with  the 
more  unfortunate  members  of  society,  nevertheless 
one  cannot  accept  the  already  popularized  beliefs 


36  "BROKE" 

that  "  the  railroads  lack  the  spark  of  human  kind- 
ness." 

The  extent  of  what  so-called  charitable  experts 
are  pleased  to  call  the  "  vagrancy  "  of  the  homeless, 
wandering  wage-workers  in  the  United  States,  can 
easily  be  determined  by  the  industrial  and  eco- 
nomic conditions  existing  throughout  the  country. 
The  demand  for  laborers  of  all  kinds  continuously 
fluctuates  in  all  industries  and  localities.  .*The  ma- 
jority of  the  homeless,  wandering  wage-earners  are 
unskilled  laborers,  and  because  of  their  unorgan- 
ized condition  they  are  the  reserve  of  that  great 
standing  army  which  is  being  maintained  through 
the  unjust,  inhuman,  and  wasteful  economic 
system,  that  pushes  human  beings  down  to  the 
lowest  level.  > . 

Most  American  railroads  are  to  blame  for  the 
industrial  conditions  in  which  the  unskilled  labor- 
ing class  finds  itself.  They  offer  starvation  wages, 
shelter  under  unsanitary  conditions,  and  permit 
the  "  canteen  "  and  "  padroni  system  "  to  pilfer, 
rob,  and  exploit  the  men  working  on  the  sections. 
And  after  the  job  at  which  they  have  been  employed 
has  been  completed,  they  are  left  stranded  where- 
ever  they  have  finished  their  work,  instead  of  being 
given  transportation  to  the  nearest  city  or  place 
where  other  work  can  be  obtained. 

Hundreds  of  thousands  of  able-bodied,  econom- 
ically useful  citizens  of  the  country  are  being  put 
to  immature  death  by  the  railroads  of  America,  and 


CHICAGO  37 

an  equally  appalling  number  are  being  maimed  and 
crippled  by  "  accidents,"  and  thereby  made  depfend- 
ent  charges  on  an  already  overburdened  commu- 
nity. 

From  among  the  victims  of  the  present-day  rail- 
road system  (for  it  is  a  system)  by  which  men  are 
being  crippled,  maimed,  and  killed,  there  is  a  silent 
but  earnest  appeal,  from  the  builders  of  our  cities, 
the  harvesters  of  the  nation's  crops,  the  miners  of 
the  nation's  resources,  the  scholars  and  teachers  of 
the  future  republic,  for  a  more  scientifically  hu- 
mane treatment,  and  for  a  guarantee  that  "  Life, 
Liberty,  and  Happiness "  shall  not  be  a  by-word 
but  a  living  reality. 

The  great  public,  that  pays  the  "  freight,"  and 
even  the  officials  of  the  American  railroad  systems 
themselves,  are  awakening  to  a  realization  of  the 
fact  that  the  torn-out  rail,  the  misplaced  switch, 
the  obstructing  tie,  the  burned  bridge,  the  cut  wire, 
petty  thefts,  and  air-brake  troubles,  are  all  too 
often  the  result  of  retaliation  for  the  inhuman 
abuse  of  the  homeless,  wandering  wage-earner. 
Even  that  portion  of  the  great  public  that  rides  "  the 
velvet "  are  beginning  to  demand  more  protection, 
for  their  own  self-preservation.  The  spirit  of  the 
various  commonwealths  of  the  Union  to  co-operate 
and  demand  by  legislative  provisions  for  safety  is 
steadily  on  the  increase. 

Thousands  of  wandering  wage-earners  in  search 
of  work  are  killed  on  American  railroads,  because 


38  "BROKE" 

society  as  a  whole,  and  the  railroad  as  a  public 
carrier  in  particular,  are  ignorantly  uninterested 
in  the  welfare  of  the  less  fortunate  members  of 
society.  The  number  of  so-called  "  trespassers  " 
killed  annually  on  American  railroads  exceeds  the 
combined  total  of  passengers  and  trainmen  killed 
annually.  From  1901  to  1903,  inclusive,  25000 
"  trespassers  "  were  killed,  and  an  equal  number 
were  maimed,  crippled,  and  injured.  From  one- 
half  to  three-quarters  of  the  "  trespassers  "  accord- 
ing to  the  compilers  of  these  figures  were  "  vag- 
rants," wandering,  homeless  wage-earners  in  search 
of  work  to  make  their  existence  possible. 

Let  us  examine  the  economic  loss  and  the  finan- 
cial cost  to  the  railroads  alone,  not  considering  the 
loss  to  the  community  of  the  so-called  "  vagrants  " 
killed  and  injured.  Even  the  railroads  are  unable 
to  give  accurate  figures  on  this  matter.  Some- 
times the  trains  stop  and  pick  up  the  injured  and 
dying  victims  of  their  system,  and  bear  them  to 
hospitals,  where  the  hospital  and  burial  charges 
must,  in  most  cases,  be  paid  or  guaranteed  by  the 
railroads.  In  many  of  the  States  of  the  Union,  a 
number  of  law-suits  have  been  successfully  fought 
against  railroads  by  so-called  "  vagrants  "  who  have 
been  thrown  off  a  fast-moving  train  and  injured, 
or  maimed.  Think  of  the  barbarous  orders  of  a 
railroad  superintendent,  to  push  or  throw  people 
from  a  fast  running  train,  or  leave  them  on  the 


CHICAGO  39 

vast  plains  of  the  West  in  a  desperate  blizzard,  as 
I  have  seen  done. 

How  much  cheaper  would  it  be  for  the  railroads 
to  furnish  these  less  fortunate  members  of  the 
working-class  with  transportation  to  their  respec- 
tive destination,  the  nearest  place  where  work  is 
possible  for  them,  and  thereby  suffer  fewer  depre- 
dations, petty  thefts,  delays  to  traffic,  hospital  and 
burial  charges,  and  other  expenses. 

How  much  would  the  respective  communities, 
and  society  as  a  whole,  be  the  gainer,  were  the 
State,  the  municipality,  to  assume  the  expense  for 
the  creation  and  maintenance  of  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Homes,  and  thereby  make  it  possible  for  the 
homeless,  wandering  wage-earner  to  receive  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  community  and  be  furnished  with 
those  necessities  upon  which  human  life  depends, 
thus  co-operating  with  the  railroads,  reducing  vice, 
crime,  and  pauperism,  and  abolishing  the  existence 
of  burdensome  public  charges. 

In  addition  to  the  Municipal  Emergency  Home, 
provided  with  up-to-date  sanitary  facilities,  the  re- 
spective communities  should  furnish  transporta- 
tion to  those  desiring  to  leave  for  other  parts  of 
the  country  where  work  can  be  obtained  or  may 
await  them.  Such  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home 
ought  to  be  the  clearing-house  for  employers  of 
labor  and  employees  alike.  Instead  of  the  unem- 
ployed being  exploited  by  the  grafting  employment 


40  "BROKE" 

bureaus  existing  in  the  various  cities,  the  business 
men,  the  men  who  need  help,  and  the  railroads 
especially,  could  make  their  drafts  for  workingmen 
on  such  Municipal  Emergency  Homes,  which  would 
be  always  in  a  position  to  assist  them,  while  at 
the  same  time  assisting  the  honest  laborer  who 
seeks  work  to  sustain  himself  and  make  existence 
possible  for  those  dependent  upon  him. 

One  of  the  greatest  remedial  agencies  in  solving 
this  very  serious  problem  is  pre-eminently  that  of 
governmental  and  railroad  co-operation,  by  which 
the  land  shall  be  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
speculator,  and  reclaimed  for  those  who  desire  to 
make  immediate  use  of  it  and  to  live  upon  the 
fruit  of  their  toil.  Thus  the  many  thousands  of 
homeless,  wandering  American  wage-earners,  the 
itinerant  and  occasional  helpers  in  our  agricultural 
industry,  as  well  as  the  casual,  unskilled  laborers 
of  our  cities,  could  be  given  a  real  lift  on  the  road 
to  economic  independence. 

In  most  of  the  European  countries,  the  so-called 
crime  of  "  stealing  a  ride  "  is  almost  unknown,  be- 
cause there  the  governments  have  established  a 
chain  of  Municipal  Emergency  Homes  where  the 
itinerent  workers  are  reasonably  well  taken  care 
of, —  provided  not  oflly  with  necessary  food,  shelter, 
and  clothing,  but  given  transportation  to  the  near- 
est point  where  employment  may  be  secured. 

Would  it  not  be  a  wise  financial  move  on  the  part 
of  the  American  railroads,  while  they  are  invest- 


"  1UST  before  Thanksgiving,  1911,  Leaving  the  Public  Library, 
Chicago,  after  Being  Ejected  Because  of  the  Clothes  I  Wore  " 


CHICAGO  41 

ing  millions  in  useless  and  superficial  adornments 
on  fifty-million-dollar  terminals,  to  consider  the 
advisability  of  building  an  Emergency  Home  in 
every  station  where  the  wandering,  homeless  wage- 
worker  can  find  comfortable  shelter  and  be  given 
food  to  strengthen  him  on  his  way  toward  honest 
employment  without  having  to  "beat"  the  rail- 
roads? 

American  railroads  will  be  forced  sooner  or  later 
to  see  that  it  is  up  to  them  to  take  care  of  the  home- 
less, wandering  wage-worker,  or  the  homeless, 
wandering  wage-worker  will  take  care  of  the  rail- 
roads. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  MERCIFUL  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  YORK 

"  /  said,  I  will  icalk  in  the  country.  He  said,  icalk  in  the 
city.  I  said,  but  there  are  no  flowers  there.  He  said,  but  there 
are  crowns." 

IN  New  York  I  repeated  my  Chicago  plan.  I 
left  the  Waldorf-Astoria  at  ten  o'clock, 
dressed  in  my  blue  jeans  and  with  my  cloak 
covering  my  outfit  until  I  could  reach  unobserved 
a  place  to  leave  it.  The  police  were  courteous  and 
directed  me  to  New  York  City's  "  House  of  God." 
Before  entering  I  stepped  back  and  looked  at  the 
wonderful  building,  beautifully  illuminated.  As 
I  stood  there  with  a  heart  full  of  thankfulness  for 
this  gift  to  those  in  need,  I  saw  a  young  girl  about 
fifteen  years  of  age  approach  the  woman's  entrance. 
Her  manner  indicated  that  this  was  her  first  appeal 
for  help.  She  hesitated  to  enter  and  stood  cling- 
ing to  the  side  of  the  door  for  support.  At  my 
right  was  the  long  dark  street  leading  to  New  York's 
Great  White  Way;  on  my  left  the  dark  East 
River.  I  could  see  the  lights  of  the  boats  and  al- 
most hear  the  splash  of  the  water.  As  she  raised 

42 


\AUN-ICIPAL  Lodging  House,  Department 
of  Public  Charities,  New  York  City 


AWAKENING   OF   NEW   YORK        43 

her  face  and  the  light  fell  upon  it,  I  read  as  plainly 
as  though  it  were  written  there,  those  lines  of 
Adelaide  Procter's: 

"  The  night  cries  a  sin  to  be  living 
And  the  river  a  sin  to  be  dead." 

Then  the  door  opened  and  I  saw  a  motherly  matron 
take  the  girl  in  her  arms  and  disappear.  This 
incident  brought  to  me  a  startling  revelation.  This 
home  was  a  haven  between  sin  and  suicide. 

The  night  I  slept  in  New  York's  Emergency 
Home  I  was  told  a  mother,  with  seven  children,  one 
a  babe  in  arms,  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  had 
sought  shelter  there.  And  as  the  door  was  opened 
to  receive  her,  she  said,  in  broken,  trembling  words, 
"  My  man's  killed  himself  —  he's  out  of  work." 

Many  men  were  seeking  admission.  I  entered 
with  the  rest.  At  the  office  we  gave  a  record  of 
ourselves,  who  we  were  and  where  we  were  from, 
and  what  our  calling  was.  Then  we  were  taken 
into  a  large  and  spotless  dining-room,  where  we 
were  given  a  supper  of  soup,  and  it  was  real  soup, 
too,  soup  that  put  health  and  strength  into  a  man's 
body  and  soul.  We  also  had  coffee  with  milk  and 
sugar,  hot  milk,  and  delicious  bread  and  butter,  as 
much  as  anyone  wanted  of  it.  After  supper  we 
were  shown  to  a  disrobing-room,  where  our  clothes 
were  put  into  netted  sanitary  trays  and  sent  to  a 
disinfecting-room.  In  the  morning  they  came  to 
us  sweet  and  clean,  purified  from  all  germ  or  dis- 


44  "BROKE" 

ease.  From  the  disrobing-room  we  went  into  the 
bathroom  where  were  playing  thirty  beautiful 
shower-baths  of  any  desired  temperature,  and  each 
man  was  given  a  piece  of  pure  Castile  soap.  As 
we  entered  the  bath  a  man  who  sat  at  the  door  with 
a  pail  of  something,  gave  each  one  of  us  on  the  head 
as  we  passed  him,  a  paddle  full  of  the  stuff.  I 
said  to  the  attendant,  "  What  is  that  for? " 
"  That's  to  kill  every  foe  on  you,"  he  said,  with 
an  emphasis  that  was  convincing.  As  he  was  about 
to  give  me  another  dose,  I  protested.  "  That's 
enough;  I  have  only  half  my  usual  quantity  to- 
night." But  I  got  another  dab  nevertheless. 

After  our  bath  and  germicide,  we  were  shown 
into  a  physician's  room,  where  two  skilled  physic- 
ians examined  each  man  carefully.  The  percept- 
ibly diseased  man  was  given  a  specially  marked 
night-robe  and  sent  to  an  isolation  ward,  where  he 
received  free  medical  treatment.  Those  who  were 
sound  in  health  and  body,  were  given  a  soft,  clean 
night-robe  and  socks,  and  were  taken  in  an  elevator 
up  to  the  wonderful  dormitories.  I  was  assigned 
to  bed  310.  There  were  over  three  hundred  beds 
in  this  dormitory,  accommodating  more  than  three 
hundred  men.  They  were  of  iron  and  painted 
white,  and  placed  one  above  the  other,  that  is, 
"double-deck,"  and  furnished  with  woven  wire 
springs.  The  mattresses  and  pillows  were  of  hair, 
and  exceedingly  comfortable.  The  linen  was 
snowy  white. 


AWAKENING  OF  NEW  YORK        45 

I  had  been  in  bed  but  a  short  time  when  an  old 
man  about  seventy  years  of  age  took  the  bed  next 
to  mine.  As  he  lay  down  in  that  public  place  I 
heard  him  breathe  a  little  prayer,  ever  so  softly 
and  almost  inaudibly,  but  I  heard  it  — "  Oh,  God, 
I  thank  Thee!"  And  I  said  to  myself,  "That 
prayer  ought  to  build  a  Municipal  Emergency 
Home  in  every  city  of  our  land."  It  came  to  me 
then  what  a  great  and  wonderful  social  clearing- 
house it  was  or  could  be. 

I  did  not  sleep,  I  did  not  want  to  sleep,  but  lay 
there  taking  mental  notes  of  the  soul's  activity. 
The  room  was  quiet  and  restful  except  for  the  rest- 
less man  who  silently  walked  the  floor.  As  he  came 
over  near  me  I  said  to  him,  "  Man,  what  is  the 
matter?  " 

He  came  close  to  my  bed  and  said,  with  a  hot, 
flushed  face,  "  I  was  not  considered  a  subject  for 
the  isolation  ward,  but  I  am  on  the  verge  of  delir- 
ium tremens.  Feel  my  pulse,  isn't  it  jumping  to 
beat  the  devil?" 

I  felt  his  pulse;  it  was  jumping  like  a  trip-ham- 
mer. But  in  the  way  of  assurance  I  answered, 
"  No,  your  pulse  is  normal." 

"  Have  we  been  up  here  four  hours?  They  gave 
me  some  medicine  downstairs  to  take  every  four 
hours,  and  if  I  was  restless,  I  was  to  send  down  for 
it  and  take  a  dose." 

"  No,  I  think  we  have  been  up  here  about  two 
hours.  You  might  send  down  for  it,  and  if  it  is  a 


46  "BROKE" 

good  thing  to  take  a  full  dose  every  four  hours,  you 
might  take  a  half -dose  in  two  hours." 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  agreed.  I  ad- 
vised him  to  cut  out  the  drink,  and  he  went  to  the 
attendant  for  his  medicine,  received  it,  and  slept 
like  a  babe  until  dawn.  There  is  an  attendant  in 
each  dormitory  all  night  long,  and  he  must  report 
to  the  office  by  telephone  every  hour,  not  being  al- 
lowed to  sleep  one  moment  on  duty. 

A  few  days  later,  after  my  visit  was  made  public, 
I  received  many  letters  at  my  hotel,  and  among 
them  was  one  from  this  man.  He  thanked  me  for 
my  bit  of  advice  to  cut  out  the  drink,  and  said  that 
he  had  braced  up  and  had  not  drunk  a  drop  since 
that  night,  and  that  he  had  determined  to  be  a 
man  and  fill  a  man's  place  in  the  world.  His  reso- 
lution was  not  due  to  my  advice  at  all.  It  was  due 
to  the  influence  of  "  God's  House,"  to  New  York's 
Municipal  Emergency  Home,  and  had  turned  him 
back  to  his  true  inheritance. 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  were  called. 
Every  man  took  the  linen  from  his  bed  and  put  it 
in  a  pile  where  it  was  all  gathered  up  and  taken 
afterward  to  the  laundries.  Every  day  fresh  and 
spotless  linen  is  supplied. 

We  then  went  down  and  dressed  and  were  given 
our  breakfast  —  as  fine  a  dish  of  oatmeal  as  I 
ever  ate,  and  again  most  delicious  hot  coffee 
with  milk  and  sugar,  bread  and  butter.  And  again 
every  man  had  abundance.  I  said  to  a  boy  who 


AWAKENING  OF  NEW  YORK        47 

sat  on  my  right,  "  How  do  you  feel  this  morning?  " 
"  I  tell  you  I  feel  as  if  someone  cared  for  me,"  he 
answered,  "  I  feel  like  getting  out  and  hustling 
harder  than  ever  for  a  job  to-day." 

This  Municipal  Emergency  Home  of  New  York's 
is  absolutely  fire-proof  and  accommodates  one 
thousand  men  and  fifty  women.  The  health  of  its 
occupants  is  more  guarded  than  at  the  most  costly 
private  hotels.  The  ventilation  is  by  the  modern 
forced-air  system,  in  which  every  particle  of  air 
is  strained  before  entering  the  dormitories.  The 
humane  consideration  of  the  comfort  of  the  broken 
and  weary  wayfarer  is  always  in  evidence,  and 
speaks  volumes  for  New  York's  intelligence.  There 
are  no  open  windows  on  one  side,  freezing  one  por- 
tion of  the  sleeping-hall,  while  the  other  may  be 
stifling  with  the  heat.  The  method  of  fumigating 
is  of  the  best,  as  it  does  not  injure  in  the  least  the 
leather  of  hat,  suspender,  glove,  or  shoe,  or  weaken 
the  texture  of  the  cloth.  The  sick  man's  night- 
clothes  are  not  even  laundered  with  the  well  man's 
clothing.  The  size,  and  degree  of  careful  detail, 
of  this  wonderful  home  was  an  outgrowth  of  the 
awful  and  fatal  unsanitary  old  police  station  lodg- 
ings, and  yet  the  Commissioner  of  Police  of  New 
York  recently  told  me  that  notwithstanding  the  ex- 
tensive character  of  the  institution,  it  was  often 
pitifully  inadequate,  especially  during  the  winter 
months.  New  York  already  needs  at  least  four 
such  homes. 


CHAPTER  V 

HOMELESS  —  IN  THE  NATIONAL  CAPITAL 

"  What  is  strange,  there  never  was  in  any  man  sufficient  faith 
in  the  power  of  rectitude,  to  inspire  Mm  with  the  broad  design 
of  renovating  the  state  on  the  principle  of  right  and  love." 

—  EMEBSON. 

IT  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  arrived  at 
the  Nation's  Capital,  and  rode  to  my  hotel 
between   tiers   of   newly   erected   seats,   and 
banners  and  flags  and  festooned  arches,  and  my- 
riads of  many-colored  lights  which  soon  were  to 
burst  forth  in  royal  splendor.     Already  the  prod- 
igal display,  costing  half  a  million  dollars,  to  in- 
augurate  a    president,    was    nearing    completion. 
Already  people  were  coming  from  far  and  near, 
spending  five  million  more. 

The  New  Willard  hotel  had  assumed  that  air  of 
distinction  it  always  does  just  before  a  happening 
of  some  national  import.  In  the  faces  of  the  hand- 
some men  I  saw  and  read  the  character  of  decision 
and  intellect,  and  the  many  beautiful  ladies, 
gowned  in  fabrics  of  priceless  value,  made  an  ex- 
ceedingly pleasant  study;  and  with  this  vision  be- 

48 


fore  me  I  was  proud  to  be  an  American.  But  I 
had  not  come  to  study  this  side ;  it  was  "  the  other 
half"  I  wanted  to  know.  I  wanted  to  learn  how 
our  Capital  helps  its  poor,  how  a  man  out  of  work, 
penniless,  and  homeless,  is  cared  for  in  Washington. 

At  about  ten  o'clock  I  went  to  my  room  to  change 
my  evening  clothes  for  my  workingman's  outfit. 
Walking  down  the  stairs  and  slipping  out  a  side 
door,  I  was  not  noticed,  and  was  soon  lost  in  the 
avalanche  of  humanity  on  the  streets. 

I  asked  of  the  first  policeman  I  met  where  I 
could  get  a  free  bed,  and  he  looked  at  me  seemingly 
in  surprise  and  said,  "A  free  bed?"  then  contin- 
ued, "  Go  to  the  Union  Mission."  I  asked,  "  Do 
they  charge  for  a  bed  there?  "  and  he  replied,  "  Yes, 
10  or  15  cents."  "  But  I  haven't  even  that  to- 
night," I  answered. 

Then  he  seemed  to  remember  that  Washington 
had  a  municipal  lodging  house,  and  told  me  I  would 
find  it  on  Twelfth  Street,  next  to  the  police  station. 
I  asked  two  other  policemen  with  similar  results, 
and  started  in  search  of  my  desired  object.  I 
looked  down  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  a  blaze  of 
lights,  and  for  one  mile  I  could  see  and  read  guid- 
ing signs  of  theaters,  breweries,  hotels,  and  cafes. 

Presently  I  came  to  Twelfth  Street,  dark  and 
gloomy,  but  there  was  no  sign  as  in  Chicago  to 
guide  the  homeless  man  or  woman,  boy  or  girl,  to 
the  door  of  the  free  home.  It  was  with  difficulty 
I  found  it.  There  was  a  three-cornered  box  over 


50  "BROKE" 

the  door,  intended  for  a  light,  but  it  was  not  illu- 
minated. Through  smoke-dimmed  windows  there 
came  a  feeble  light  by  which  I  could  just  discern 
the  words,  "  Municipal  Lodging  House,"  and  on 
the  door  the  inscription,  "  To  the  Office." 

Before  entering  I  stepped  back  into  the  street 
and  looked  up  at  the  building.  It  was  an  old  three- 
story  brick  building,  with  no  sign  of  a  fire  escape. 
I  entered  and  found  myself  in  a  low  and  very  nar- 
row passageway.  I  applied  to  the  "  office  "  through 
a  small  window-door  for  my  bed.  There  was  an 
honest-faced,  comfortably  dressed  young  man  just 
ahead  of  me,  who  gave  his  occupation  as  machinist, 
received  his  bed  check,  and  passed  on. 

When  I  stepped  to  the  window  and  asked  for  a 
bed,  I  received  no  word  of  welcome  from  a  woman 
seated  at  her  desk,  her  demeanor  being  decidedly 
unwelcome.  Abruptly  a  man's  voice  asked  from 
within,  "  Are  you  willing  to  work  for  it?  "  I  re- 
plied earnestly  that  I  was.  The  woman  then 
snatched  up  a  pen  and  asked,  "  Were  you  ever  here 
before?  Where  were  you  born?  Where  do  you 
live?  What  is  your  business?" 

My  answers  apparently  being  satisfactory,  she 
thrust  me  a  bed  check,  and  said  something  about  a 
light  and  something  else  which  I  did  not  under- 
stand, and  slammed  the  door  in  my  face.  I  stepped 
along  and  found  myself  in  the  woodyard  among 
piles  of  wood,  saws,  sawbucks,  and  sawdust.  I 
tried  several  doors,  and  finally  found  one  that  ad- 


IN  THE  NATIONAL  CAPITAL        51 

mitted  me.  A  narrow  flight  of  stairs  let  me  to  a 
bathroom,  where  a  number  of  men  were  already 
trying  to  get  a  bath.  There  were  two  attendants, 
one  who  was  working  for  his  bed  and  breakfast, 
and  the  other,  I  judged  a  paid  attendant.  I  was 
told  to  go  into  a  closet  and  strip,  and  to  hang  on 
a  hook  all  of  my  clothes  except  my  shoes  and  stock- 
ings and  hat.  Having  done  this,  I  stepped  out  into 
the  bathroom.  It  was  heated  by  a  stove,  which 
emitted  no  heat,  however,  as  the  fire  was  almost 
dead.  There  were  two  bathtubs,  and  six  of  us  were 
standing  nude  in  that  cold  room  waiting  each  for 
his  turn.  The  boy  working  for  his  bed  made  a 
pretense  with  a  mop  of  cleaning  the  tubs  after  each 
bather,  but  left  them  nasty  and  unsanitary.  I  got 
into  about  six  inches  of  water,  and  hurriedly  took 
my  bath,  because  of  the  others  waiting.  I  did  not 
want  to  wash  my  head,  so  omitted  that,  but  just  as 
I  got  out  of  the  tub  the  Superintendent  came  in  and 
said,  "  You  haven't  washed  your  head  yet ;  get  back 
in  there  and  wash  your  head."  I  immediately  and 
meekly  complied. 

Shivering  with  the  cold,  I  got  out,  was  given  a 
towel  to  dry  myself,  and  then  a  little  old  cotton 
nightshirt  with  no  buttons  on  it.  Several  of  us 
being  ready,  we  were  led  by  the  Superintendent 
up  another  flight  of  narrow  stairs,  through  another 
long  hall,  and  up  two  more  series  of  steps  to  a 
small  dormitory.  I  would  have  suffered  with  the 
cold  if  I  had  not  seized  an  extra  blanket  from  an 


52  "BROKE" 

unoccupied  bed,  and  I  slept  very  little.  I  was 
afraid  to  go  to  sleep,  for  if  the  building  had  taken 
fire  not  one  man  could  have  escaped.  So  I  lay 
and  took  mental  notes  and  soul  thoughts  of  my 
companions  and  surroundings,  and  of  all  I  had  seen 
and  heard  since  I  left  Denver. 

I  heard  one  boy  say  to  another,  "  I  tell  you,  I'm 
hungry.  I  could  eat  a  mule  and  chase  the  rider 
up  hill.  Did  you  have  any  supper  to-night?" 
And  the  other  boy  replied,  "  A  policeman  gave  me 
a  dime.  What  do  you  think  of  that?  And  I  got 
two  scoops  of  beer  and  the  biggest  free  lunch  you 
ever  saw,  and  I  feel  fine." 

I  heard  a  man  say  to  the  one  next  to  him,  "  Do 
you  think  this  place  will  be  pulled  to-night?  "  and 
the  other  answered,  "Why,  no;  what  makes  you 
think  so?"  The  first  one  said,  "They  pulled  the 
Union  Mission  one  night  for  vags,  but  I  don't  think 
they  will  pull  this  place,  because  it's  a  city  lodg- 
ing house."  Comforted  by  that  thought,  they  both 
fell  asleep. 

During  the  night  a  frail  boy,  with  no  clothing 
except  the  thin  nightshirt,  went  to  the  toilet,  down 
the  long  cold  halls  and  stairways,  into  the  still 
more  cold  woodyard.  When  he  returned  he  had 
a  chill,  and  as  he  lay  down  I  heard  him  groan.  I 
said,  "  What  is  the  matter,  boy  ?  "  and  he  replied, 
"  I  have  such  a  pain  in  my  side." 

Just  at  daylight  we  were  called,  went  down  into 
a  cheerless  room,  and  were  given  our  clothes,  then 


IN  THE  NATIONAL  CAPITAL        53 

on  down  to  the  cramped  dining-room,  with  scarcely 
any  fire,  where  we  were  huddled  together,  thirty 
of  us,  whites  and  blacks.  Here  we  waited  one  hour 
for  breakfast,  and  then  we  were  driven  out  into  the 
woodyard  for  some  reason  we  could  not  find  out, 
and  waited  another  half-hour  until  breakfast  was 
called.  During  that  long  wait  almost  the  entire 
conversation  was  about  work  and  where  it  could  be 
found. 

We  went  in  to  breakfast  and  sat  down  to  a  stew 
of  turnips  and  carrots,  in  which  there  was  a  little 
meat.  In  mine  there  were  three  pieces  of  meat 
about  as  big  as  the  end  of  one's  thumb..  There  was 
some  colored  sweetened  water  called  "  coffee,"  and 
some  bread.  I  did  not  care  for  mine,  but  the  other 
men  and  boys  ate  ravenously.  When  the  boy  on 
my  right  had  finished  his,  I  said,  "  Ask  for  some 
more."  He  replied,  "  It  wouldn't  do  no  good ;  they 
only  allow  one  dish."  Then  a  hollow-eyed,  thin- 
handed  man  on  my  left  said,  "  Are  you  going  to  eat 
yours?  "  I  said,  "  No,"  and  he  eagerly  asked  if 
he  could  have  it.  I  said,  "  You  most  certainly 
can,"  and  then  he  asked  me  if  I  was  not  well.  It 
was  the  first  word  of  kindness  I  had  received.  He 
took  the  dish  and  emptied  it  all  into  his,  but  glanc- 
ing up  I  caught  the  appealing  look  of  the  boy  op- 
posite. He  took  the  boy's  empty  dish,  putting  part 
of  it  into  his  dish,  and  the  boy  ate  as  though  he  had 
had  nothing  before. 

Having  finished  breakfast,  and  while  we  were 


54  "BROKE" 

waiting  to  be  assigned  to  our  work,  the  door  be- 
tween our  room  and  the  inner  room  was  left  open 
for  a  moment,  and  we  saw  the  Superintendent 
seated  at  a  well-appointed  table  with  flowers  upon 
it,  a  colored  man  waiting  upon  him.  One  of  the 
boys  looking  in  said,  "  Oh,  gee,  look  at  the  beef- 
steak," and  then  another  boy  looked  at  me,  and 
said,  "  You  see  how  Washington  treats  the  out-of- 
work,  and  this  place  is  self-supporting,  or  more 
than  half-supporting."  And  then  a  boy  who  had 
come  early  and  worked  Ms  two  hours  for  that  bed 
and  that  breakfast,  gave  us  a  cheerful  good-bye 
and  started  off  to  walk  seven  miles  to  begin  work  on 
a  farm,  a  place  he  had  secured  the  day  before. 

We  waited  to  be  assigned  to  our  work.  I  wanted 
to  saw  wood,  the  wood  looked  so  clean  and  inviting, 
and,  too,  I  had  sawed  wood  when  I  was  a  boy  on 
the  farm,  and  knew  how ;  but  I  was  not  allowed  to 
do  so,  and  was  given  the  task  of  making  the  beds. 
It  was  rather  repellant  to  me  at  first,  but  I  thought 
of  those  far  down  through  the  years  of  the  past, 
a  great  deal  more  worthy  than  I,  who  had  done 
things  much  more  humble  for  humanity's  sake.  I 
can  assure  the  honest  man  and  boy  who  slept  be- 
neath those  coverings  that  night  that  I  had  tried  my 
best  to  make  them  comfortable,  although  the  linen 
was  not  changed,  nor  the  blankets  aired. 

Some  of  the  men  scrubbed,  and  some  swept  the 
floors  and  stairs;  some  worked  about  the  dining- 
room;  others  sawed  wood. 


IN   THE   NATIONAL  CAPITAL        55 

While  waiting  in  the  woodyard  for  breakfast,  I 
jokingly  said,  as  we  looked  at  the  wood,  "  What's 
the  matter  of  getting  out  of  here?  Then  we  won't 
have  to  work."  And  one  replied,  "  We  can't,  we 
are  locked  in."  To  prove  if  this  was  true  I  stepped 
to  the  door  and  found  it  as  he  said.  We  were 
locked  in  and  could  not  have  escaped  in  case  of  fire 
or  accident  if  we  had  tried. 

There  is  a  sign,  sometimes  seen  to-day  in  the 
dance  halls  of  our  Western  camps,  "  Don't  shoot 
the  pianist,  he  is  doing  the  best  he  can,"  and  so  with 
the  Superintendent  of  Washington's  Municipal 
Lodging  House,  under  the  conditions  he  may  be 
doing  the  best  he  can.  Work  is  always  a  grand 
thing.  The  floors  and  stairs  were  clean,  also  our 
food  and  dishes.  He  impressed  me  as  being  the 
right  man  in  the  right  kind  of  a  place.  But  the 
Washington  Federal  Lodging  House  is  only  a  sug- 
gestion of  such  an  institution.  As  the  house  now 
stands  it  is  the  lodger,  the  workless  man  and  boy, 
who  keeps  the  floors  and  stairs  and  windows  clean. 
They  do  it  willingly,  but  they  should  be  treated 
fairly  for  their  labor.  Not  one  should  be  allowed 
to  go  to  bed  hungry.  He  should  be  given  a  clean, 
warm  bed  to  sleep  in,  and  a  good  wholesome  break- 
fast, and  all  he  can  eat.  He  should  be  given  a 
pleasant  welcome,  an  encouraging  word,  and  a 
cheerful  farewell, —  it  means  so  much,  and  costs 
nothing. 

I  did  not  stay  to  see  the  inauguration.     Somehow 


56  ''BROKE" 

Washington  had  lost  its  brightness,  and  the  grand 
men  and  beautiful  women  their  interest.  I  had 
read  almost  every  week  for  a  number  of  years  of 
"  T.  E.,"  and  of  his  democratic  way  of  walking  on 
Sunday  morning  to  church,  and  then  I  fell  to 
wondering  why  he  never  walked  to  a  few  other 
places  in  Washington,  which  wrere  only  a  stone's 
throw  from  his  home.  But  one  with  great  cares 
cannot  be  blamed  for  thoughtlessness  in  "  little 
things."  I  did  not  go  to  church  as  I  intended.  I 
spent  the  morning  asking  the  press  to  appeal  to  the 
city  of  Washington,  where  Lincoln  and  Washington 
lived,  thought,  and  acted,  the  city  of  love,  charity 
and  freedom,  not  to  let  another  day  pass  until  they 
had  started  a  movement  and  sent  a  delegation  to 
inspect  and  to  copy  the  Municipal  Lodging  House 
of  New  York,  that  they,  too,  might  build  one,  to  be 
the  example  of  our  country. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  LITTLE  PITTSBUEG  OF  THE  WEST  AND  ITS 
GREAT  WRONG 

"Even  the  night  shall  le  light  about  me." — PSALMS  139:11. 

IN   Pueblo,  Colorado,  I  discovered  they  were 
finding  men  dead  in  an  ash-dump  of  a  rail- 
road company.     Pueblo,  called  "  The   Little 
Pittsburg  of  the  West,"  is  distinctly  an  industrial 
city.     It  naturally  attracts  thousands  of  working- 
men   during  the   course   of  the  year,   and   when 
the  demand  for  labor  is  supplied,  it  follows  that 
many  men  will  congregate  there,  willing  to  work 
but    often    unable    to    find    employment    imme- 
diately. 

The  great  ash-dump,  about  a  fourth  of  a  mile  in 
length,  afforded  warmth  to  the  destitute  homeless 
man,  who  had  his  choice  between  this  exigency  and 
the  city  jail.  Men  would  lie  down  on  the  warm 
cinders,  and  while  they  slumbered,  the  poisonous 
gases  would  asphyxiate  them.  The  death  of  their 
brother  workers  had  made  men  cautious  and  when 

57 


58  "BROKE" 

I  was  there  they  no  longer  crawled  out  upon  the 
ashes,  but  lay  down  on  the  edge  of  the  dump,  where 
the  ground  held  a  certain  degree  of  warmth. 

I  joined  the  miserable  group  one  night,  and  as  I 
lay  there,  and  the  night  grew  cold  and  dark  and 
still,  I  could  see,  like  serpents,  the  tongues  of  blue 
poisonous  fumes  leap  from  crack  and  cranny.  I 
stood  the  exposure  to  the  limits  of  endurance,  and 
then  crept  away  to  that  other  humane  expression 
of  Pueblo  —  its  only  "  Municipal  Emergency 
Home,"  the  "  Bull-pen  "  in  its  old  bastile. 

It  was  midnight  as  I  entered,  and  a  man  hearing 
me  in  the  hall  came  out  of  an  office  and  looked  at 
me  inquiringly.  Finally  he  asked: 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  I  would  like  a  place  to  sleep." 

"  Come  this  way  and  go  through  yonder,"  he 
said,  pointing  the  way  to  the  jailer's  office. 

I  went  as  directed.  As  I  entered,  the  jailer,  who 
was  asleep  in  a  large  reclining  chair,  awoke  and 
greeted  me  pleasantly  enough. 

"  Good-evening.     What  can  I  do  for  you?  " 

"  Can  you  show  a  fellow  where  he  can  lie 
down?" 

He  immediately  got  up,  and  picking  up  his  bunch 
of  keys,  said,  "  Follow  me." 

I  followed  him  through  two  huge  iron-grated 
doors,  to  another  door  which  opened  into  a  great 
dungeon  cell, —  Pueblo's  first  open  portal  in  creat- 
ing the  criminal  and  crime.  Huge  chains  with 


THE  LITTLE  PITTSBURG  59 

great  iron  balls  attached  were  lying  in  the  passage- 
way leading  to  the  cell. 

As  the  jailer  swung  back  the  monstrous  iron 
door,  he  said: 

"  I  think  you  will  find  a  place  there.  If  the  ham- 
mocks are  all  taken,  you  can  lie  on  the  floor." 

The  great  key  was  turned,  and  I  was  in  Pueblo's 
"  Municipal  Emergency  Home." 

With  the  first  dreadful  feeling  of  suffocation  and 
nausea  caused  by  the  foul  air  and  the  odor  of  un- 
washed bodies  and  open  drains,  and  the  awful  fear 
of  fire  as  I  realized  the  impossibility  of  escape 
from  behind  so  many  iron-bound  doors  in  the  old 
rookery  of  a  building,  I  would  have  begged  to  be 
released,  but  neither  the  jailer  nor  anyone  else  ap- 
peared until  six  o'clock  the  next  morning.  I  there- 
fore had  to  endure,  and  after  I  had  finally  adjusted 
myself  to  the  frightful  conditions  around  me,  I  was 
able  to  make  my  observations. 

There  were  twenty  canvas  hammocks,  all  of  un- 
speakable filthiness,  hung  one  above  the  other,  on 
iron  frames.  There  was  no  pretense  of  bedding. 
The  occupants  covered  themselves  with  their  old 
ragged  overcoats,  if  they  happened  to  have  any, 
and  those  who  were  not  so  fortunate,  simply 
shivered  in  their  rags. 

The  cots  were  all  taken  and  an  old  man  some 
seventy-five  years  of  age  lay  on  the  concrete  floor, 
which  was  covered  with  tobacco  juice  and  the  ex- 
pectorations of  diseased  men.  .Vermin  were  run- 


60  "BROKE'' 

ning  over  the  floor  and  on  the  tin  dishes  left  there 
from  the- last  night's  supper. 

Water  from  the  toilet  of  the  women's  depart- 
ment above  had  run  down  the  wall,  and  under  this 
old  man  now  sound  asleep,  and  on  into  the  waste 
basin. 

I  walked  back  and  forth  in  my  horror  for  some 
time,  passing  in  front  of  the  hammock  beds  and 
finally  a  man  raised  his  head  and,  evidently  think- 
ing I  was  walking  for  warmth,  said : 

"  Friend,  you  will  find  it  warmer  over  there  by 
the  steam  pipes." 

I  wonder  why  he  called  me  "  friend  "  ?  'A.  spirit 
of  kindness  from  one  man  to  another,  in  a  place 
like  that !  Think  of  it ! 

I  spent  the  entire  night  walking  the  floor  or  sit- 
ting on  an  old  battered,  inverted  tin  pail,  studying 
the  wretched  inmates  of  the  dirty,  desolate  cell. 

I  saw  a  man  get  up,  and  with  outstretched  hands, 
feel  his  way  to  the  drinking  place.  I  went  over 
and  helped  him.  He  was  totally  blind.  He  told 
me  he  had  once  been  kept  in  that  place  seventeen 
days.  A  one-legged  man  who  had  gotten  up,  hob- 
bling without  his  crutch,  helped  him  back  to  bed. 

Never  was  sound  sweeter  to  my  ears  than  the 
rattle  of  the  jailer's  keys  when  he  came  to  let  me 
out.  He  kindly  asked  me  to  stay  to  breakfast,  but 
I  did  not  accept.  I  was  only  too  glad  to  escape 
to  my  hotel,  to  wash  out  the  material  evidence  of 


THE  LITTLE  PITTSBURG  61 

contact  with  the  foulness  gathered  on  that  most 
miserable  night. 

Mayor  Fugard,  who  had  been  in  office  only  two 
weeks,  had  already  made  an  appeal  for  a  new  City 
Hall  and  City  Jail,  and  I  felt  it  was  a  courtesy  due 
him  to  call  upon  him  before  going  to  the  press  with 
my  story.  When  I  told  him  I  had  paid  a  visit  to 
Pueblo's  twTo  city  lodging  places,  and  had  spent  a 
night  in  the  "  Bull-pen,"  he  threw  up  his  hands 
and  exclaimed: 

"  Good  heavens !  You  have  more  courage  than 
I  have.  I  am  glad  you  have  come  to  our  city  and 
I  am  glad  you  have  investigated  conditions  just 
as  you  did.  I  want  you  to  take  your  report  to 
every  paper  in  the  city,  for  I  desire  everyone  to 
know  the  conditions  of  these  places,  just  as  they 
are." 

When  I  left  Pueblo,  I  called  on  him  to  say  good- 
bye, and  he  took  me  by  the  hand  and  said : 

"You  may  quote  me  to  the  public,  through  the 
press,  as  saying  that,  as  soon  as  possible,  Pueblo 
will  abolish  the  *  Bull-pen '  and  will  yet  have  a  Free 
Municipal  Emergency  Home  that  she  will  not  be 
ashamed  to  own." 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  LATTER-DAY  SAINTS  "  WHO  SIN  AGAINST  SOCIETY 

When  I  lie  down  I  say  when  shall  the  night  be  gone,  and  I  am 
full  of  tossings  to  and  fro  unto  the  dawning  of  the  day. — JOB  7:4. 

AS  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  sang  of  Flor- 
ence, so  one  may  sing  of  Salt  Lake  City. 
"  Like  a  water  lily  resting  on  the  bosom 
of  a  lake,"  so  rests  the  lovely  Zion,  reposing  in  a 
valley  of  green  fields,  trees  and  flowers  and  fruits, 
with  placid  lakes  and  flowing  crystal  streams ;  sur- 
rounded by  soft  gray  mountains,  rugged,  clear  cut, 
grand,  their  peaks  covered  with  perpetual  snow  be- 
neath whose  surface  lie  untold  millions  of  precious 
metals. 

Besides  precious  metals,  Salt  Lake  City  has  coal, 
oil,  and  salt,  and  an  unsurpassed  valley  in  agri- 
cultural fertility.  Looking  down  upon  the  metrop- 
olis of  Utah,  one  might  almost  fancy  it  a  great 
sleeping  town  among  its  green  trees,  but  I  can  as- 
sure you  it  is  not  so.  Enter  its  gate  and  you  will 
find  it  a  veritable  beehive  of  commercial  industry, 
a  city  of  a  hundred  thousand  people,  fast  expanding, 
and  becoming  one  of  the  great  railway  centers  of 

62 


"LATTER-DAY  SAINTS"  63 

the  Western  empire, —  a  city  calling  for  the  workers 
and  many  of  them,  for  it  is  just  the  "  hewers  and 
drawers  "  that  Salt  Lake  needs  and  must  have. 

In  Boston,  I  once  stopped  in  Scolly  Square  and 
listened  to  a  number  of  Mormon  missionaries  ex- 
pounding their  doctrine.  They  were  not,  as  many 
might  imagine,  old  men  with  long  gray  beards,  but 
were  young  men  of  perfect  physical  manliness,  with 
the  clear-cut  eyes  of  those  who  lead  temperate  lives. 
They  talked  of  Moses  and  the  prophets,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  talk,  a  well-dressed  young  man  stand- 
ing next  to  me  interrupted  by  crying  out,  "  Don't 
talk  to  us  of  the  Blessed  in  Heaven,  and  those  can- 
onized by  the  church!  Give  us  a  little  practical 
religion.  Tell  us  what  privileges  Salt  Lake  City 
offers  to  the  man  who  is  poor  because  he  must  work 
with  his  hands.  Has  Salt  Lake  City  abolished  any 
of  the  social  evils  that  pauperize  her  people?  Has 
she  driven  out  the  corrupt  political  machine? 
Has  she  established  a  municipal  building  to  offer 
to  temporarily  homeless  people  shelter  and  food 
as  a  safeguard  against  the  jail?  Has  she  created 
a  public  bath,  an  emergency  hospital,  a  free  em- 
ployment bureau?  Tell  us  of  a  Christianity  such 
as  this,  and  we  will  listen."  The  Mormon  Elders 
seemed  stunned  into  silence,  and  as  the  young  man 
turned  to  leave,  he  addressed  me,  saying :  "  My 
God !  How  I  suffered  in  that  city !  I  am  a  printer 
by  trade.  I  became  destitute  looking  for  work 
while  there  and  suffered  not  only  from  hunger  and 


64  "BROKE" 

exposure,  but  I  was  arrested  and  thrown  into  jail 
as  a  vagrant,  simply  because  I  was  homeless,  help- 
less, and  penniless !  " 

It  was  during  the  first  week  in  November  that  I 
left  for  Zion.  On  my  journey  I  was  obliged  to 
stop  over  at  a  station  called  Green  River,  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  east  of  the  city.  The  wea- 
ther was  cold  and  raw,  there  was  no  fire  in  the  sta- 
tion, and  I  felt  extremely  uncomfortable. 

In  the  distance  a  dim  light  was  visible,  and  I 
started  to  find  out  what  it  might  offer  of  comfort, 
and  possibly  breakfast.  On  my  way,  I  encountered 
six  young  fellows  just  crawling  out  of  a  ware- 
house in  which  was  stored  baled  hay,  on  top  of 
which  they  had  been  trying  to  rest.  They  were  all 
thinly  clad;  their  teeth  chattered  with  the  cold, 
and  they  shivered  until  their  bones  seemed  to  fairly 
rattle.  They,  too,  went  with  me  to  the  light  which 
revealed  a  cheap  restaurant.  It  was  only  a  board 
shack  but  there  was  a  stove  in  there  touched  with  a 
deep,  ruddy  glow,  and  hot  coffeee  and  rolls  was  to 
be  had  for  ten  cents,  and  much  more  if  one  had  the 
price. 

Seated  at  the  table,  one  of  the  boys  looked  up 
to  me  and  said,  "  Do  you  know  where  a  fellow  can 
get  a  job  around  here?  "  He  told  me  they  had  been 
working  just  over  the  border  in  Colorado,  in  and 
around  Grand  Junction  and  Delta  in  the  fruit  belt, 
for  the  past  six  weeks. 


]\/f  U MCI PAL  Lodging  Hoyse,  New  York  City 
Physicians'  Examination  Room 


MUNICIPAL  Lodging  House,  New  York  City 
"  Now  for  a  good  night's  rest  " 


"LATTER-DAY  SAINTS"  65 

"  I  thought  I  had  a  place  for  the  winter.  A 
ranchman  said  he  would  keep  me  at  good  wages, 
and  I  felt  I  was  fixed,  but  the  fellow  who  lived 
with  him  last  winter  returned  and  he  took  him 
back.  Us  fellows  are  on  our  way  to  Salt  Lake 
City,  but  I  am  told  just  now  that  the  harvest  hav- 
ing closed,  the  town  is  full  of  idle  men  looking  for 
work,  and  I  thought  if  I  could  strike  a  job  here  I 
would  stay." 

"  If  you  have  been  working  steadily  for  six  weeks 
in  the  fruit  belt,  I  presume  you  have  plenty  of 
money  to  tide  you  over,  and  you  will  soon  be  in 
some  place  where  you  are  needed?  " 

"  No,  we  haven't,  that  is  the  trouble,  and  we 
must  walk  or  beat  our  way  to  Salt  Lake,  although 
we  have  been  working  every  day  possible.  We 
were  paid  two  dollars  a  day.  -It  cost  us  a  dollar 
a  day  to  live.  We  lost  a  great  many  days  by 
stormy  weather.  Peaches  could  be  picked  only  at 
a  certain  degree  of  ripeness,  and  often  on  pleasant 
days  we  would  be  obliged  to  wait  for  the  fruit  to 
reach  that  state,  to  be  accepted  by  the  packers. 
So  we  haven't  much  money  left.  Our  clothes  are 
worn  out,  and  must  be  replaced.  You  can  easily 
see  how  necessary  it  is  for  us  to  save  the  little  left 
of  our  earnings." 

I  knew  every  word  this  boy  was  telling  was  true, 
for  the  Fall  before,  I  had  picked  fruit  for 
two  weeks  near  Grand  Junction  to  satisfy  myself 


66  "BROKE'' 

what  it  meant  to  toil  in  an  orchard, —  to  see  what 
it  meant  to  the  orchard  owner,  and  what  it  meant 
to  the  railroad  in  transporting  that  fruit.  Thus,  I 
knew,  from  personal  experience,  that  the  worker 
who  garnered  the  harvest  for  the  people,  filled  just 
as  important  a  place  as  the  orchard  owner  or  the 
railroad  company. 

"  Last  night,"  the  boy  continued,  "  I  tell  you  we 
were  tired  and  hungry  when  we  reached  here.  We 
walked  twenty-five  miles  yesterday  and  each  of  us 
fellows  chipped  in  fifteen  cents,  and  we  bought 
three  loaves  of  bread,  a  piece  of  meat,  some  vege- 
tables and  coffee.  We  went  down  by  the  railroad 
track  just  below  town  and  made  one  of  the  finest 
'  Mulligans '  you  ever  saw.  Didn't  it  smell  good, 
that  cooking  '  Mulligan '  and  hot  coffee !  And  it 
was  almost  done  when  a  fly  cop  of  the  railroad 
company  came  along  and  shot  our  cans  all  full  of 
holes  and  drove  us  away,  declaring  we  were  camped 
on  '  private  property,'  the  right-of-way  of  the  rail- 
road company.  We  were  robbed  with  all  the  pit- 
ilessness  that  would  be  shown  a  hardened  crim- 
inal !  "  His  face  took  on  a  look  of  fierce,  piercing 
hatred. 

Those  boys  had  been  creating  dividends  for  that 
railroad,  and  they  knew  it ;  and  every  one  of  them 
should  have  received  free  transportation  to  Den- 
ver, Salt  Lake,  or  to  some  source  of  labor,  instead 
of  abuse  and  persecution. 

I  looked  out  of  the  window  and  saw  my  train 


"LATTER-DAY  SAINTS"  67 

coming  into  the  town,  and  I  ran  to  catch  it,  and 
left  my  little  company  of  toilers  waiting  and  watch- 
ing for  an  opportunity  to  beat  their  way  on  a 
freight  to  the  "  City  of  Saints." 

After  reaching  Salt  Lake,  I  looked  down,  from 
the  window  of  a  fashionable  and  exclusive  hotel, 
in  the  heart  of  the  beautiful  city,  upon  Salt  Lake's 
shame, —  down  upon  dens  of  vice  and  iniquity  that 
would  put  to  shame  many  cities  who  boast  of  no 
moral  standing  whatever. 

I  found  the  boy's  report  was  true.  The  city  was 
filled  with  men  idle  after  the  summer  and  autumn 
work,  which  the  early  coming  winter  and  sudden 
cold  weather  had  closed  down.  I  drifted  around 
among  these  idle  men  and  talked  to  a  great  many. 
I  found  a  vast  number  temporarily  homeless,  and 
out  of  money,  suffering.  Why  was  it?  Industry 
seemed  to  be  at  its  height,  a  great  deal  of  building 
was  going  on;  in  fact,  there  seemed  to  be  work  of 
every  sort  for  everyone.  The  reason  was  very  evi- 
dent. Employment  could  not  be  obtained  at  any 
of  the  employment  offices  without  money.  It  was 
the  universal  statement  among  the  homeless  penni- 
less men  that  not  one  employer  would  stake  a  man 
to  live  until  pay  day. 

In  the  evening  I  put  on  my  worker's  outfit,  and 
set  out  to  look  for  a  free  bath  and  bed.  I  asked  the 
first  officer  I  met  where  the  public  bath  house  was, 
as  I  was  "broke."  He  looked  at  me  in  astonish- 
ment, and  then  replied,  "  I'll  tell  you,  Salt  Lake  is 


68  "BROKE"' 

a  little  shy  on  free  baths  just  now.  You  might  go 
down  to  the  Jordan  River,  but  it's  pretty  cold  this 
time  of  the  year." 

Then  I  began  to  look  for  a  bed,  and  asked  an- 
other policeman  where  the  City  Lodging  House 
was,  as  I  was  in  need  of  shelter.  He  raised  his 
hand  and  pointed  through  the  alley  to  a  bright 
light,  the  City  Jail.  And  so  in  this  city,  amidst 
the  "  Latter-Day  Saints,"  men  are  compelled  to 
lose  their  self-respect,  and  seek  shelter  in  a  ver- 
min-infested city  jail,  or  else  become  a  common 
"  Moocher." 

I  did  become  a  mendicant  and  went  to  the  Y.  M. 
C.  A.,  but  they  could  do  nothing  for  me.  I  was 
about  to  enter  the  Salvation  Army,  when  the  lights 
went  out  and  the  place  closed  for  the  night. 

I  then  joined  a  group  of  young  fellows  (who,  by 
the  way,  had  also  come  from  the  Grand  Junction 
fruit  district),  and  I  asked  them,  "Boys,  if  you 
are  busted,  where  are  you  going  to  sleep?  "  They 
answered,  "  In  a  *  side-door  Pullman '  in  the  rail- 
road yards."  Inviting  myself,  I  said,  "  I  am  with 
you." 

These  young  men  were  all  strong,  healthy  fel- 
lows, except  one  who  was  slight  and  delicate,  whose 
large  eyes  seemed  to  hold  a  strange,  intense  light. 
There  was  the  red  glow  of  fever  in  his  cheeks  and 
when  he  coughed  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  crimson 
stain.  One  of  his  pals  was  thoughtful  of  him  that 


"LATTER-DAY  SAINTS"  69 

night.  He  had  a  little  money  and  he  slipped  it  to 
the  boy,  who  was  sheltered  from  the  first  penetrat- 
ing cold  of  the  early  winter  for  one  night  at  least, 
and  had  a  warm  supper,  bed,  and  breakfast. 

Reaching  the  dark  and  gloomy  railroad  yard,  we 
stealthily  threaded  our  way  among  the  cars,  fear- 
ful of  arrest  from  the  yard  watchman,  looking  for 
a  car  which  possibly  might  contain  some  straw. 
Finally  we  found  one.  The  odor  was  that  of  a 
car  in  which  hogs  had  recently  been  shipped. 
Soon  the  half-starved,  body-wearied  boys  were 
sound  asleep,  but  for  me,  sleep  was  impossible, — 
I  was  perishing  with  the  cold.  It  was  a  marvel 
how  they  could  sleep  at  all.  It  was  obvious  that 
they  were  suffering  and  only  getting  fitful  snatches 
of  sleep,  which  their  restlessness  plainly  showed. 
The  only  reason  they  really  kept  from  freezing  was 
because  they  were  huddled  closely  together.  In  a 
short  time  I  realized  that  my  experience  would  be 
dangerous  to  health  if  I  remained  longer,  and  I 
slipped  out  and  away. 

As  I  walked  up  that  great  long  broad  street  of 
the  city,  I  thought  a  great  deal  about  Salt  Lake 
and  its  people.  I  wondered  if  there  was  any  deep 
moral,  humanely  reasoning  love  there.  I  wondered 
if  its  citizens'  love  for  their  brothers  in  this  great 
republic  would  much  longer  allow  those  conditions 
to  prevail.  I  wondered  how  they  could  be  made  to 
see  that  they  needed  these  itinerant  workers  for 


70  "BROKE" 

the  upbuilding  of  their  city  and  the  State,  and  if 
Salt  Lake  and  Utah  could  be  induced  to  do  their 
share  toward  offering  these  men  a  decent  welcome 
and  a  refuge  until  they  could  be  placed  at  honest 
work. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
KANSAS  CITY  AND  ITS  HEAVY  LADEN 

"  All  religions   are   beautiful  which  make  us  good  people." — 

AUEBBACH. 

JUST  before  the  opening  of  the  great  har- 
vests of  Kansas,  I  reached  Kansas  City. 
Ten  thousand  men  had  congregated  there 
in  anticipation  of  work.  The  season  was  late  and 
the  harvest  would  not  begin  for  a  week  or  ten 
days.  The  men  must  be  right  at  hand.  While  all 
of  them  could  be  classed  as  homeless,  migratory 
wage-earners,  they  were  not  all  penniless  by  any 
means.  Only  a  small  percentage  of  them  were 
without  actual  means  of  subsistence,  although 
there  were  probably  a  thousand  of  really  penniless 
men  in  Kansas  City  when  I  reached  there,  men  who 
must  beg,  or  steal,  to  make  existence  possible. 

By  actual  experience  I  soon  found  that  immed- 
iate work  was  unobtainable.  On  the  eve  of  my 
first  night  in  the  city  I  sat  with  a  number  of  un- 
fortunates on  the  projection  of  the  foundation  of 
the  Salvation  Army  Hotel.  Beside  me  was  a  stout 

71 


72  "BROKE" 

young  man  of  good  manner  and  with  a  pleasant, 
open  face.  Turning  to  him  in  a  casual  way,  I  said, 

"Where  can  a  fellow  find  work?" 

"  I  don't  know,  unless  you  get  a  job  down  on  the 
railroad,"  he  replied.  "  I  live  in  Indianapolis. 
I'm  out  here  to  work  in  the  Kansas  harvests,  but 
I'm  sorry  I  started  so  soon  for  I'm  here  about  two 
weeks  in  advance  of  the  work.  It  has  been  such 
a  cold,  late  Spring." 

Just  then  a  police  officer  came  down  the  street 
—  it  is  remarkable  how  unpleasant  a  drink  or  two 
will  make  a  policeman, —  and  rapped  us  up  with 
the  ingratiating  command  to  "  Move  on !  " 

After  the  officer  had  passed,  I  again  took  a  seat, 
but  the  boy  remarked,  "  You  had  better  not  sit 
down  again.  He  may  return  any  moment,  and 
he'll  club  you.  He  clubbed  me  yesterday  and  I 
haven't  gotten  over  it  yet." 

So  we  got  up  and  walked  toward  the  Employ- 
ment Office  to  investigate  the  work  he  had  spoken 
of,  and  as  we  walked  I  noticed  that  my  companion 
limped, —  the  result  of  the  "  clubbing  "  lie  had  re- 
ceived from  the  policeman. 

I  could  not  help  thinking  of  his  needs  and  his 
situation.  Seeking  to  draw  him  out,  I  asked  as 
if  I  sought  to  have  him  treat,  "  Have  you  the  price 
of  a  beer?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  if  I  had  I  would  buy  some- 
thing to  eat." 

"Are  you  hungry?" 


KANSAS  CITY  73 

With  a  forced  laugh  he  replied,  "Yes,  I  spent 
my  last  dime  last  night  for  a  meal.  I  held  it  in 
my  hand  so  long  it  had  grown  rusty  but  I  had  to 
let  it  go  at  last." 

Putting  my  hand  in  my  pocket  and  pulling  out 
a  silver  dollar,  I  laughingly  remarked,  "  Well,  I'm 
not  broke,  but  I  will  be  when  this  little  lump  of 
sugar  is  gone.  I'll  tell  you,  Jack,  I'm  a  believer  in 
combines,  the  kind  of  combine  that  a  hundred  cents 
make,  and  we'll  go  shares  on  this  one." 

I  wish  all  Kansas  City  could  have  seen  the  er- 
pression  of  hope  that  lit  up  that  starving  lad's 
face.  My  sharing  with  him  was  something  more 
substantial  than  the  sermon  or  inexpensive  advice 
usually  handed  to  the  starving  man. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  we're  partners  now,  and  we 
may  as  well  be  broke  as  to  have  only  this,  so  let's 
go  and  eat  it." 

I  led  him  away  from  the  neighborhood  of  the 
City  Hall  and  the  City  Jail,  and  the  Board  of 
Health  and  the  Helping  Hand  Mission,  and  out  of 
all  that  black  and  heartless  region,  to  where  we 
could  get  a  clean  meal  without  being  poisoned  by 
some  cheap  slum  eating  house.  We  talked  as  we 
went  along,  and  I  asked  him  where  he  had  spent 
the  previous  night. 

"  Down  in  the  yards  in  a  freight  car,  and  it 
rained  nearly  all  night.  The  car  leaked,  and  at 
about  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  it  grew 
very  cold.  I  suffered  a  lot.  I  was  afraid  of  being 


74  "BROKE" 

arrested,  for  we're  not  allowed  to  sleep  in  the  yards. 
But  the  watchman  was  decent  and  let  me  stay  until 
daylight." 

I  had  heard  of  the  "  Helping  Hand "  Mission 
Lodging  House,  known  to  those  who  are  forced 
into  it  as  the  "  House  of  Blazes,"  and  I  asked  him 
why  he  had  not  gone  there. 

"  There  was  no  room,"  he  replied. 

Coming  from  the  chop-house  we  went  to  an  em- 
ployment office,  where  we  read  upon  the  black- 
board : 

"  Wanted  —  Fifty  men  in  Oklahoma,  $1.35  a 
day,  free  shipment." 

We  stepped  inside  for  further  information  and 
found  that  board  would  be  three  dollars  and  a  half 
a  week.  The  boy  studied  for  a  moment  and  then 
said: 

"  Let's  go." 

"  You  go,"  I  replied,  "  you  are  strong  enough 
for  the  work,  but  I'm  not.  I  may  meet  you  down 
that  way  when  the  harvest  opens." 

"  I  think  I  will  go,"  he  replied.  "  It's  hard  work, 
ten  hours  a  day,  and  if  I  lose  two  days  out  of  the 
week  by  bad  weather  or  sickness  or  a  hundred  other 
reasons,  or  buy  a  few  things  I've  got  to  have,  I 
will  be  in  debt  to  the  company  at  the  end  of  the 
week.  But  it's  better  than  to  stay  here  and  beg  or 
starve.  Some  fellows  can  l  mooch '  but  that's  one 
thing  I've  never  got  low  enough  to  do,  and  I  hope 
I  never  will.  It's  only  a  bare  existence  there,  but 


KANSAS  CITY  75 

as  you  say,  the  harvest  will  soon  be  open.  I'll 
go." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  went  in,  ob- 
tained his  transportation,  and  on  coming  out, 
shook  my  hand  with  both  his  own  while  he  ear- 
nestly said  good-bye  and  begged  of  me  to  be  sure 
to  meet  him  again  if  possible.  He  started  off,  and 
as  he  reached  the  first  corner  on  his  way  to  the  de- 
pot, he  stooped  down  and  rubbed  his  knee  as  if  in 
pain,  but  cheerfully,  and  with  a  final  wave  of  fare- 
well, he  straightened  up  and  disappeared. 

But  he  could  not  ^disappear  from  my  thoughts, 
this  starving  and  shelterless  boy,  down  and  out, 
ill-used,  yet  ever  ready  at  the  first  suggestion  of 
hope  to  rush  again  into  life's  battle.  And  so  I 
have  related  this  incident  of  meeting  him  at  length, 
although  it  was  nothing  in  comparison  with  some 
of  the  terrible  things  I  learned  that  afternoon.  In 
fact,  rarely  in  any  city,  have  I  seen  so  much  hu- 
man misery  publicly  exposed,  and  in  so  small  a 
space,  as  I  did  there,  around  the  block  bounded  by 
Main  and  Delaware,  and  Fourth  and  Fifth  Streets. 

I  saw  men  driven  like  animals,  eight  at  a  time, 
into  the  bull  pen  of  the  city  jail.  When  night  fell 
and  the  streets  were  ablaze  with  light  I  was  still 
walking  about  and  observing.  I  felt  in  my  pock- 
ets. The  last  cent  of  my  dollar  was  gone.  The 
chop-house  had  left  me  broke.  So  I  began  to  in- 
quire where  the  homeless  and  penniless  could  find 
shelter. 


76  "BROKE" 

In  the  main,  I  found  that  conditions  were  the 
same  as  in  Denver,  except  that  Kansas  City  had  the 
"  Helping  Hand  "  institution,  to  which  I  have  re- 
ferred,—  an  ostensibly  "  religious "  institution, 
backed  up  in  its  operations  by  the  co-operation  of 
the  city  authorities. 

Recalling  what  I  thought  I  knew  about  this  in- 
stitution, it  required  some  courage  to  trust  myself 
to  its  tender  mercies,  but  I  determined  to  try  it 
and  learn  about  the  actual  conditions  existing  there. 

I  went  first  to  their  religious  service,  where  I 
heard  an  exceptionally  able  address  on  the  features 
of  Christ's  humanitarianism,  and  on  the  wonder- 
ful merit  which  there  was  in  the  application  of  the 
"  square  deal "  principle  between  man  and  man. 
individually  and  collectively. 

The  house  was  filled  with  a  large  number  of  men 
whose  broken  appearance  told  only  too  plainly 
that  the  world  was  not  dealing  kindly  and 
"  squarely"  with  them.  When  the  speaker  had 
ended  his  address  the  men  were  asked  to  come  for- 
ward and  thereby  signify  that  they  had  accepted 
the  teachings  of  Christ  as  they  were  interpreted  by 
the  preacher.  Not  a  man  stepped  forward. 

That  night,  as  a  destitute  workingman,  at  this 
same  place  I  asked  for  a  bed.  I  was  told  I  could 
have  one  but  was  expected  to  do  two  hours'  work 
for  it. 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  do  so,"  I  replied. 

The  office  was  caged  in  by  a  heavy  iron  wire  as 


KANSAS   CITY  77 

though  to  be  protected  from  thieves.  The  man  at 
the  desk  said : 

"  Well,  leave  me  your  hat,  and  when  you  have 
done  your  work  in  the  morning  you  will  get  it." 

I  humbly  handed  him  my  hat,  and  numbering 
it  he  threw  it  on  a  pile  of  many  others.  He  was 
obviously  holding  my  hat  as  a  ransom,  fearing  to 
trust  my  honor. 

I  was  given  a  bed  check  corresponding  to  the 
number  of  my  hat,  and  told  to  go  upstairs.  A  man 
sat  at  a  desk  on  which  an  old,  smoky  kerosene 
lamp  was  burning.  He  showed  me  into  a  room  in 
which  one  hundred  and  sixteen  men  were  sleeping. 
He  did  not  turn  up  the  light,  even  for  a  moment, 
so  that  I  might  see  the  kind  of  a  bed  I  was  getting 
into.  He  explained  this  by  saying  he  feared  to 
awaken  the  dead-tired,  half-starved  individuals  on 
the  bunks.  As  a  result  I  was  afraid  to  get  into  my 
bed  at  all,  but  laid  down  on  the  outside  of  the 
covering  and  stayed  there  all  night.  Not  a  word 
had  been  said  about  supper  or  a  bath. 

The  odor  of  the  hundred  unwashed  bodies  was 
nauseating.  There  was  the  usual  consumptive 
and  asthmatic  coughing,  and  the  expectoration 
upon  the  floor ;  there  were  no  cuspidors,  and  the  air 
was  stifling. 

Not  far  from  me  I  heard  a  young  man  moaning, 
and  every  few  moments  he  would  exclaim,  "Oh, 
my  God!  Oh,  my  God!"  I  went  to  him  and 
asked : 


78  "BROKE" 

"  What  is  the  matter?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  suffering  from  inflammatory  rheuma- 
tism," he  groaned. 

I  felt  of  his  arms  and  hands,  and  found  them 
burning  hot  and  swollen  hard  from  his  elbows  to 
his  finger-tips. 

"  Can't  I  go  out  and  get  something  for  you?  "  I 
anxiously  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  tell  you  to  get.  I  need 
a  doctor." 

I  called  an  attendant.  The  sufferer  asked  if  he 
could  get  a  doctor  from  the  city  hall  across  the 
street. 

"  No,  not  until  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning," 
was  the  answer. 

The  man  had  two  rags  about  twelve  inches  long 
and  three  inches  wide.  All  night  long,  at  intervals 
of  every  twenty  or  thirty  minutes,  he  went  to  the 
water  faucet,  wet  these  rags,  and  bound  them  upon 
his  arms. 

I  thought  by  contrast  of  New  York  City's 
wonderful  Municipal  Emergency  Home,  and  of  the 
kind  medical  treatment  given  at  any  hour  of  the 
night  to  its  inmates. 

On  arising  in  the  morning  we  went  down-stairs 
and  waited  an  hour  for  our  breakfasts.  We  could 
see  our  hats  piled  up  behind  the  iron  bars. 

When  the  long  wait  was  over,  we  were  given  a 
breakfast  consisting  of  dry  bread,  stewed  prunes, 
and  some  liquid  stuff  called  coffee,  without  milk 


KANSAS  CITY  79 

or  sugar.  What  a  hungry  man  would  eat  at  that 
table,  if  he  had  been  able  to  stomach  it,  wouldn't 
amount  to  a  value  of  over  three  cents  a  meal. 
While  we  ate  we  were  supposed  to  refresh  our- 
selves spiritually  by  reading  the  religious  mottoes 
on  the  wall.  "  Come  unto  Me  all  ye  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden  and  I  will  give  you  rest,"  "  Blessed 
are  the  Merciful,"  "  He  came  to  preach  deliverance 
to  the  captives,"  and  "  When  did  you  write  Mother 
last?  " 

After  that  so-called  breakfast  I  was  sent  to  work 
in  the  long,  poorly  ventilated  room,  in  which,  the 
hundred  and  sixteen  men,  unwashed,  diseased,  and 
foul,  had  slept  the  previous  night.  I  worked  two 
long  hours  making  beds  and  cleaning  floors,  in 
payment  of  the  three-cent  meal  I  could  not  eat,  and 
the  bed  I  dared  not  get  into.  The  Mission  people 
valued  our  meal  at  ten  cents,  and  our  beds  at  ten 
cents,  and  we  were  paying  for  it  at  labor  at  ten 
cents  an  hour,  while  at  every  other  place  in  the  city 
employers  and  the  municipality  were  paying  twenty 
and  twenty-five  cents  an  hour  for  common  labor. 

The  boys  who  had  paid  their  ten  cents  for  a  bed 
sat  out  in  the  office,  and  stood  a  chance  of  getting 
a  job  at  twenty  or  twenty-five  cents  an  hour  at  the 
labor  bureau,  but  the  boys  whose  hats  were  held 
as  a  ransom  had  no  such  opportunity. 

It  was  not  a  "  square  deal."  And  right  there  I 
saw  one  instance  of  its  demoralizing  tendency. 
In  the  room  where  I  was  at  work  a  young  boy  was 


80  "BROKE" 

dressing  himself.  He  looked  up  at  a  coat  and  hat 
which  hung  by  the  door,  and  asked  me,  with  an  in- 
nocent look : 

"Whose  hat  is  that?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Do  you  think  it's  a  tramp's?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I  wouldn't  take  it  if  I  were 
you." 

After  a  moment's  thought  he  said : 

"  I've  got  a  job  this  morning  if  I  can  get  there, 
but  I  can't  stay  here  for  two  hours  and  get  it." 

In  a  few  minutes  I  noticed  that  the  boy  and  hat 
were  both  gone.  I  suppose  he  thought  it  a  fair  ex- 
change since  he  had  been  compelled  to  leave  his 
own  in  the  office,  and  who  will  say  it  was  not? 

The  floors  were  filthy,  the  beds  rotten.  The 
blankets  were  stiff  and  the  sheets  ragged;  they 
were  both  contaminated  with  all  the  filth  of  dis- 
eased and  unwashed  men.  I  don't  believe  the 
blankets  had  been  changed  for  years  or  the  sheets 
for  weeks. 

It  seemed  to  be  the  custom  of  the  superinten- 
dent of  this  place  to  keep  up  a  show  of  cleanliness 
by  making  the  men  and  boys  do  the  scrubbing  for 
nothing.  When  a  bed  is  to  be  looked  at  by  a 
"  charitably  inclined "  visitor,  clean  pillow  slips 
and  sheets  are  put  on,  but  they  are  for  exhibition 
purposes  only.  As  for  the  beds  that  are  actually 
in  use,  they  are  well  worth  the  immediate  attention 
of  the  Kansas  City  health  authorities. 


KANSAS  CITY  81 

Only  the  real  inmates,  and  not  the  casual  visi- 
tors, can  know  the  "  Helping  Hand "  for  what  it 
is  in  practice.  Morally,  it  is  a  breeder  of  crime, 
and  not  an  aid  in  any  way  to  the  recovery  of  self- 
respect.  The  only  commendable  feature  about  it 
is  the  Labor  Bureau  run  in  connection, —  an  ad- 
junct that  every  Municipal  Emergency  Home 
should  have. 

Such  a  Bureau  is  proof  that  the  cry  of  men  not 
wanting  to  work  is  a  false  cry.  I  wish  those  who 
pay  heed  to  it  could  have  seen  the  object  lesson 
that  morning  when  those  hundreds  of  middle  aged 
men,  young  men  and  boys,  almost  tumbled  over  one 
another  in  their  eagerness  to  reach  the  window  and 
get  the  jobs  of  carpet-sweeping,  dish-washing,  store- 
clerking,  stenography,  and  other  kinds  of  work 
that  were  being  given  out. 

Can  such  a  rich  city  as  Kansas  City  afford  with 
impunity  to  neglect  its  duty  to  its  "  hewers  of 
wood  and  drawers  of  water?  " 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  NEW  ENGLAND  "  CONSCIENCE  " 

"See  to  it  only  that  thyself  is  here, —  and  art  and  nature,  hope 
and  dread,  friends,  angels  and  the  Supreme  Being  shall  not  be 
absent  from  the  chamber  where  thou  sittest." — EMEESON. 

STUDYING  in  Boston  — as  is  said  of  Paris 
—  is  being  born  in  Boston. 
When  a  boy  in  my  teens  I   spent  four 
years  there,  and  those  four  years  awakened  in  me 
the  brightest  dreams  and  brightest  hopes  for  a  suc- 
cessful future. 

After  thirty  years,  I  am  again  in  this  renowned 
center  of  intellectual  culture  as  a  student,  but  this 
time  as  a  social  student  in  pursuit  of  knowledge 
of  how  our  "  Modern  Athens  "  cares  for  the  honest, 
out-of-work,  penniless,  homeless  worker. 

At  half-past  ten  at  night,  in  search  of  a  free  bed, 
I  made  my  way  down  to  a  building,  at  least  seventy 
or  more  years  old,  looking  for  Boston's  Municipal 
Lodging  House,  "  The  Wayfarer's  Lodge,"  better 
known  as  "  The  Hawkins  Street  Woodyard." 
(Boston  is  rather  given  to  pretty  names.  They 
have  a  Deer  Island  also.) 

82 


NEW  ENGLAND   "CONSCIENCE"      83 

My  reception  was  not  at  all  encouraging  for  a 
destitute  man.  I  was  not  even  asked  if  I  was  hun- 
gry, but  was  shown  at  once  into  a  bath-room,  lo- 
cated down  in  the  cellar,  which  was  dark  and  un- 
inviting. 

After  my  bath  I  put  on  a  nightshirt  taken  from 
a  basket,  and  carrying  my  hat,  shoes,  and  stockings 
in  my  hand,  I  climbed  two  flights  of  stairs  to  the 
dormitories,  leaving  the  rest  of  my  clothes  to  be 
fumigated,  as  I  supposed,  but  I  doubt  very  much  if 
that  was  done,  as  they  had  none  of  the  purified  odor 
of  thoroughly  disinfected  clothing  I  had  noticed 
in  New  York. 

There  was  no  sign  of  medical  inspection,  nor 
any  attempt  at  separation  of  the  sick  from  the  well. 
I  should  judge  one  hundred  men  to  have  been 
in  the  two  dormitories  that  night.  There  were 
boys  not  more  than  fifteen  years  old  sleeping  by 
the  side  of  men  of  seventy.  The  beds  were  shoved 
absolutely  tight  together,  which  gave  the  appear- 
ance of  all  sleeping  in  one  bed.  When  it  became 
necessary  for  any  one  of  them  to  get  up  during 
the  night  he  was  forced  to  crawl  over  the  next  men 
or  over  the  head  or  foot  of  the  bed. 

As  there  were  no  cuspidors,  the  men  expector- 
ated into  space  without  thought  or  care  of  where 
it  fell. 

Two  men  came  in  and  took  beds  next  to  mine. 
The  one  on  my  right  was  an  intelligent  working- 


84  "BROKE" 

man,  the  one  on  my  left  was  a  drunkard  with  a  hor- 
ribly offensive  breath  from  disease  and  mm. 

The  beds  had  no  mattresses, —  a  blanket  was 
simply  thrown  over  the  woven  wires, —  and  as  I 
sank  down  on  one,  it  became  a  string  beneath 
me.  A  blanket  was  our  only  covering,  and  the 
pillows,  filled  with  excelsior,  were  as  hard  as 
boards. 

I  said  to  the  man  on  my  right : 

"  Did  you  have  any  supper  to-night? " 

"  No,  I  didn't,  and  I  feel  pretty  weakv  and 
hungry.  I  spent  my  last  thirty  cents  this  morning 
for  a  breakfast,  and  what  do  you  think  I  got  for 
it?  I  got  a  piece  of  beefsteak  four  inches  square 
so  tough  I  could  scarcely  eat  it,  and  some  potatoes 
fried  in  rancid  lard." 

I  made  no  reply  and  the  exhausted  and  half- 
starved  man  fell  asleep. 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  couple  of  drinks  of  whiskey," 
said  the  man  on  my  left. 

"  Oh,"  I  replied,  "  you  don't  want  much ;  one 
drink  would  do  me." 

"  Yes,  but  I've  got  beyond  that,"  he  said ;  "  it 
takes  a  good  many  drinks  to  do  me,  and  they  can't 
come  too  fast,  either."  Then,  with  a  sigh,  he  ad- 
ded, "  My  dear  old  Daddy,  God  bless  him,  I 
have  one  thing  to  blame  him  for.  He  taught  me 
to  drink,  and  here  I  am  in  this  charity  business  — 
a  drunkard." 

And  he,  too,  turned  over  and  fell  asleep.     But 


NEW   ENGLAND   "CONSCIENCE"      85 

I  could  not  sleep;  asthmatics  and  consumptives 
were  coughing  constantly,  and  the  wreckage 
around  ine  was  too  much  for  my  sympathies. 

The  coming  of  the  daylight  through  the  windows 
was  a  welcome  sight.  I  got  up  and  went  to  the 
drinking  place,  and  asked  a  burly  looking  atten- 
dant if  it  was  time  to  get  up. 

"  Naw,  taint !  "  he  snapped,  with  a  wicked  scowL 

When  I  went  back  to  bed  I  saw  this  man  lock  the 
two  doors  leading  from  our  dormitory  to  the  out- 
side toilet  rooms,  and  for  half  an  hour  the  men 
were  obliged  to  use  the  basin  at  the  drinking  place 
for  sanitary  convenience! 

When  the  doors  were  finally  unlocked,  suppos- 
ing it  to  be  the  signal  for  us  to  get  up,  I  went  with 
hat  and  shoes  in  my  hands  and  sat  down  in  a  chair 
by  the  door.  When  the  attendant  to  whom  I  had 
spoken  earlier,  came  up  the  stairs  and  saw  me  there, 
without  a  moment's  warning  he  seized  me  by  the 
wrists,  jerked  me  to  my  feet,  and  giving  me  a  shove 
thrust  me  in  a  most  brutal  manner  through  the 
door,  exclaiming: 

"  Now,  will  you  stay  in  there  until  you  are  told 
to  come  out  ?  " 

I  shuddered  to  think  what  would  have  happened 
if  I  had  been  a  half-starved  boy,  and  had  resented 
that  man's  insult.  Doubtless  I  would  have  been 
beaten  into  insensibility. 

Finally,  after  another  half  hour,  he  yelled  from 
the  doorway: 


86  ''BROKE" 

"  Hey,  there,  you  fellers,  get  up  and  get  out  of 
here!" 

Quickly  we  obeyed  and  were  driven  down  into 
the  cellar.  From  there  we  were  driven  to  the  wood- 
yard,  where  we  were  made  to  saw  wood  for  two 
hours.  The  strong  men  sawed  their  stint  in  much 
less  time  than  the  weak  ones.  For  the  latter  it 
must  have  meant  two  long  hours  indeed,  weakened 
as  many  of  them  were  by  a  chronic  hunger  and  dis- 
ease, and  having  gone  supperless  to  bed  and  being 
as  yet  without  breakfast. 

When  I  had  finished  paying  for  my  "  entertain- 
ment," I  was  again  driven  into  a  place  to  put  my 
saw  and  saw-buck  away,  and  then  I  was  allowed 
to  go  to  breakfast  into  a  cheerless,  overcrowded 
room ;  even  at  this  stage  of  the  game  I  was  driven 
to  three  different  places  before  I  was  allowed  to 
be  seated. 

They  brought  me  some  bean  soup  with  beans 
swimming  in  it,  so  bitter  with  salt  I  could  not  eat 
it ;  a  water  cracker  so  hard  I  could  not  bite  it,  and 
a  dirty  slice  of  bread,  that  one  of  the  indigent,  but 
willing  workers,  carried  in  his  soiled  hands  and 
dropped  by  my  plate. 

A  very  hungry  looking  young  man  who  sat  be- 
side me  tasted  his  soup  and  exclaimed: 

"  I'm  hungry,  but  I'll  beg  or  steal  before  I'll  eat 
this  stuff." 

We  both  got  up  and  left  the  "  Hawkins  Street 
Woodyard"  in  disgust;  he  going  down  the  street 


NEW  ENGLAND  "CONSCIENCE"     87 

for  breakfast,  and  I  in  another  direction  to  my 
hotel. 

During  this,  my  social  study,  I  have  received 
many  letters  from  the  itinerant  worker.* 

I  may  add  that  I  did  not  investigate  Boston's 
Associated  Charities,  but  I  did  catch  a  suggestion 
or  two  that  as  far  as  helping  the  temporarily  out- 
of-work  and  destitute  toiler,  both  man  and  woman, 
they  were  inadequate  and  their  good  qualities  did 
not  exceed  the  "  Hawkins  Street  Woodyard." 

Dressed  in  my  garb  of  a  worker,  which  en- 
courages confidence  because  it  excites  sympathy, 
on  another  day,  on  the  Boston  Common,  I  was  at- 
tracted by  two  idle  men  sitting  on  a  nearby  seat, 
one  an  Irishman  and  the  other  a  Swede.  They 
seemed  to  be  feeling  about  as  good  as  cheap  Bos- 
ton beer  could  make  them,  and  the  Irishman  in  an 
earnest  yet  jovial  way  was  trying  to  convince  the 
Swede  that  the  world  was  flat  instead  of  round.  I 
dropped  down  on  the  seat  beside  them,  and  just 
then  the  Swede  saw  a  man  he  thought  he  knew, 
and  abruptly  left  us. 

I  turned  and  said  to  the  Irishman  in  a  tentative 
way,  "Where  can  a  fellow  find  a  job?" 

He  replied,  "  Do  what  I'm  doing.  I'm  an  actor, 
and  I'm  playing  the  drunkard's  part  in  '  The  Price 
of  a  Man's  Soul,'  every  night,  over  at  Hell's  Corner 
on  Tremont  Street." 

*  See  worker's  letter  in  the  Portland  story,  Chapter  xv. 


88  "BROKE" 

This  answer  naturally  surprised  me;  but  with- 
out a  trace  of  astonishment,  and  with  seeming  in- 
difference, I  said, 

"  I  am  with  you,  friend,  for  that  is  a  part  in 
which  I  sparkle;  but  on  the  square,  what  do  you 
do  for  a  living?  " 

"  Well,  I'm  a  barber,  and  as  fine  a  barber  as  ever 
held  a  razor.  I  owned  a  big  shop  once,  and  I  hired 
twenty  men,  but  it  went  when  I  went.  I  am  so 
low  down  now,  no  one  wants  me.  Oh,  occasionally 
I'll  get  a  job  in  one  of  the  cheap  places.  I  worked 
two  hours  last  night  in  Cambridge,  and  two  the 
night  before  in  Chelsea." 

Then  with  sudden  digression,  I  said,  "Where 
can  a  fellow  get  a  bed  and  something  to  eat  if  he's 
broke?" 

"  You  can  go  down  to  the  Hawkins  Street  Wood- 
yard.  But  don't  go  there  unless  you  have  to ! " 
And  he  described  its  wretchedness,  which  I  knew 
from  my  own  experience.  The  man  was  truthful 
on  that  point,  and  I  believed  in  him. 

I  laughingly  said,  "What's  the  matter  with  go- 
ing down  to  the  '  Island  '?  " 

"  Well,  I  can  tell  you  all  about  those  places.  I 
have  done  time  in  all  of  them.  One  day  in  Charles 
St.  Jail,  one  week  at  Tewksbury,  and  forty  days  at 
Deer  Island." 

"  Can  a  man  with  no  crime  but  poverty  go  there 
and  get  work,  and  be  paid  for  it?  " 

He  laughed  sardonically.     "  You  can  get  work  all 


NEW  ENGLAND  "CONSCIENCE"      89 

right,  but  your  pay  is  tough  board  and  abuse. 
They'll  probably  set  you  to  digging  graves  at 
Tewksbury.  They  die  over  there  like  sheep  with 
a  plague." 

"  But  what  of  Deer  Island?  " 

"  Well,  I'm  a  barber,  you  know,  and  they  put 
me  in  the  barber  department.  One  day  two  of  the 
prisoners,  also  doing  my  kind  of  work  (all  men 
who  come  there  have  to  be  shaved ) ,  were  two  min- 
utes late  coming  in  from  the  yard  to  work.  That 
made  the  attending  officer  mad,  and  he  said,  "  I'll 
fix  'em ! "  and  he  forced  those  men  for  hours  to 
stand  with  their  faces  to  the  wall  with  their  hands 
over  their  heads.  It  was  a  question  of  obey  or  be 
thrown  into  a  dungeon  perhaps  for  days.  I  saw 
that  punishment  inflicted  many  times,  and  I  saw 
men  fall  from  exhaustion  and  pain  and  be  dragged 
out.  Where  they  were  taken,  I  don't  know,  and 
many  of  them  were  old  men,  too. 

"  One  day  I  was  sent  over  to  the  hospital  to 
trim,  as  I  was  told,  a  young  woman's  hair.  I  took 
only  my  shears  and  comb.  On  arriving  there  I 
found  a  young  woman  with  a  head  of  hair  that 
shone  like  silk,  and  fell  three  feet  down  her  back. 
She  was  in  tears  and  begging  that  it  might  be 
spared.  She  was  only  there  for  thirty  days  and 
it  meant  leaving  the  place  doubly  disgraced.  But 
the  Matron  declared  she  had  seen  a  louse  in  her 
hair,  and  her  word  went.  When  I  came  in  she 
asked  me  if  I  had  brought  the  clippers.  I  said, 


90  "BROKE" 

'  No.'  She  ordered  me  to  go  and  get  them.  Feel- 
ing sorry  for  the  girl  I  told  her  it  wasn't  necessary 
to  cut  the  hair.  I  could  clean  her  head  perfectly 
without  cutting  off  a  single  hair.  At  this  the 
Matron  said,  'Are  you  an  officer  or  a  prisoner 
here?  Get  your  clippers  and  do  as  you  are  told, 
and  quickly ! '  I  knew  what  it  meant  to  be  dis- 
obedient. I  saw  before  me  the  dungeon-inferno.  I 
left  the  girl  crushed  and  sobbing,  and  that  wealth  of 
hair  almost  worth  its  weight  in  gold  upon  the  floor. 
"  There  was  a  mutiny  among  a  few  of  the  men, 
demanding  a  change  in  their  food.  They  were 
working  all  day  for  nothing  but  that  food,  but  be- 
cause of  their  demand,  they  were  thrown  into  the 
dark  dungeon,  fed  on  bread  and  water  for  ten  days, 
and  I  saw  some  of  those  men,  as  they  came  out 
from  the  darkness  into  the  light,  faint  on  the 
prison  floor.  One  of  them  was  an  old  man  with 
a  long,  snow-white  flowing  beard,  and  you  know 
how  proud  an  old  man  is  of  a  beautiful  beard. 
Well,  I  was  ordered  to  cut  it  off  and  he  pleaded  as 
the  young  woman  did  for  her  hair,  but  in  vain. 
He  said  to  me,  l  This  is  my  first  time  on  the  Island. 
My  wife  knows  I  am  here,  but  my  children  don't. 
Wife  has  forgiven  me,  and  I  am  to  leave  in  a  few 
days,  and  I  had  looked  forward  to  such  a  happy 
home  coming,  but  they  won't  recognize  me  now, 
and  this  puts  upon  me  a  double  infamy.  All  of 
my  friends  know  I  am  here.  I  did  not  mean  to 


be  uncivil,  I  meant  to  do  right,  but  I  was  drawn 
into  the  revolt,  not  realizing  I  was  doing  wrong 
which  would  put  us  in  the  dungeon.  I  feel  so 
weary  and  broken.  I  wish  now  more  than  ever 
that  my  prayer  in  the  dark  dungeon  had  been 
answered,  for  I  prayed  many  times  in  there,  that 
when  the  light  came  to  me  again  it  would  be  the 
light  from  that  land  of  Him  who  said,  "  I  was  sick 
and  in  prison  and  ye  visited  me." 

I  looked  in  wonder  at  the  man  speaking  to  me, 
scarcely  believing  him.  He  noticed  my  expression 
and  said,  "  Those  were  his  words,  his  very  words. 
I  remember  them  for  they  impressed  me." 

"  Is  this  true?  "  I  asked.  "  Is  there  a  law  in 
Massachusetts  allowing  a  man  to  be  condemned 
and  thrust  into  a  dungeon  for  ten  days  for  a  petty 
offense  like  this?" 

"  I  have  not  told  to  you  one  hundredth  part  of 
the  suffering  I  saw  at  Deer  Island.  The  cells 
there  are  absolutely  dark.  There  is  a  small  slide 
in  the  door  where  the  doctor  peeps  in  to  see  if  a 
man  is  dead,  or  gone  mad." 

"  If  he  is  dead,  what  then?  " 

"  Well,  if  he  has  no  friends,  he  is  put  into  a  box 
and  carried  just  over  the  hill  to  the  burying  plot 
called  <  The  Haven.' " 

I  was  so  touched  by  this  man's  story,  I  could 
listen  no  longer.  I  got  up  and  took  him  by  the 
arm  and  said,  "  Let's  cut  out  our  fault." 


92  "BROKE" 

He  replied,  "  I'll  have  to,  I  guess,  for  its  cutting 
me  out." 

I  strolled  on  up  the  Common,  and  thought  of  all 
it  meant,  "  The  Haven"  over  the  hill.  This  man 
told  me  he  had  been  a  citizen  of  Boston  all  his  life. 
Who  would  believe  this  story  of  a  destitute  old 
floatsam  cast  up  from  the  wreckage  of  America's 
temple  of  Elegance?  Had  he  told  me  the  truth  or 
a  lie?  I  have  many  reasons  to  believe  every  word 
he  told  me  was  true,  but  there  is  no  man  who  can 
verify  this  story,  except  the  man  who  has  done  forty 
days  at  Deer  Island. 

In  a  conventional  visit  to  the  Island,  I  looked 
into  the  men's  prison  just  far  enough  to  see  tier 
upon  tier  of  small  cells  in  which  all  the  prisoners 
are  locked  for  twelve  hours  of  every  day.  The 
dungeons  I  did  not  see  as  they  are  never  open  to 
visitors. 

It  was  a  clear  beautiful  day.  Blue  sky  and  blue 
sea,  all  around,  white  ships  sailing  by,  the  men 
working  in  the  fields,  the  women  busy  in  the  sew- 
ing rooms,  all  inspired  me  to  think  that  Deer 
Island  could  be  made  a  place  of  hope  and  cheer. 
But  that  vision  was  far  from  the  reality.  The 
prisoners  kept  a  funeral  silence,  happiness  or  hope 
was  not  for  them.  Even  their  work  was  stolen 
from  them. 

I  said  to  one  intelligent  looking  man  who  was 
working  in  the  garden,  "  It  helps  a  fellow  to  come 
down  here,  doesn't  it?  " 


NEW  ENGLAND  "CONSCIENCE"      93 

He  answered,  "  Yes,  if  we  are  not  made  physical 
wrecks  by  the  treatment  we  receive,  it  does  help 
us.  But  then,  when  our  time  is  up,  we  are  dis- 
graced and  thrown  back  helpless  into  the  same  old 
slums  of  the  city,  just  as  before." 

The  Penal  Commissioner  of  Boston  told  me  that 
he  could  use  thirty  beds  a  night  in  a  Municipal 
Emergency  Home,  just  to  accommodate  the  men 
and  women  who  were  daily  discharged  destitute 
from  Deer  Island. 

While  Boston  has  done  much  for  its  poor,  its 
sick,  and  its  children,  there  still  remains  the  prob- 
lem of  the  utterly  down  and  out,  the  shelterless 
and  moneyless,  but  honest,  workers. 

Can  Boston  allow  New  York  to  excel  it  in  car- 
ing for  it  shelterless  workers?  I  hear  the  cry, 
"Where  can  we  get  the  money?"  When  you  ask 
that  question  you  are  putting  a  price  on  a  man's 
soul.  I  wish  some  goddess  of  gentleness  would 
touch  the  hearts  of  those  "  munificent "  and  "  pub- 
lic spirited"  citizens  who  founded  the  Boston 
Public  Library,  that  they  might  also  build  a  Muni- 
cipal Emergency  Home,  and  ornament  its  frieze 
with  a  perpetual  beauty  of  words,  "  Dedicated  to 
the  advancement  of  the  Commonwealth  and  Hum- 
anity." 

I  am  not  without  historical  sentiment.  I  love 
local  antiquities,  if  they  can  be  mine  to  enjoy 
without  oppression.  Boston  has  old  burying 
grounds  and  churches  worth  millions  and  millions 


94  "BROKE" 

of  dollars.  The  dead  have  rested  there  a  long 
time.  Why  not  build  for  the  living  who  have 
nowhere  to  lay  their  heads,  a  Municipal  Emergency 
Home  that  would  be  a  living  force  for  the  upbuild- 
ing of  the  morals  and  economic  security  of  the 
commonwealth  ? 


CHAPTER  X 

PHILADELPHIA'S  "  BROTHERLY  LOVE  " 

"  Hast  thou  Virtue?     Acquire  also  the  graces  and  beauties  of 
Virtue." — FBANKLIN. 

I  HAD  read  that  Philadelphia's  hospitality  was 
her  great  virtue,  and  that  it  was  character- 
istic of  her  people  to  bestow  upon  the  stran- 
ger and  the  homeless  —  who  are  and  who  come 
within  her  gates  —  a  blessing  of  care  and  kind- 
ness nowhere  else  known, —  to  make  them  feel  that 
at  last  they  have  found  a  haven. 

The  first  Philadelphia  police  officer  I  met  I  asked 
several  questions  about  the  city.  His  manner 
toward  me  was  a  surprise.  He  seemed  very  willing 
to  talk  with  an  apparently  homeless  man.  We 
spoke  of  a  number  of  things,  among  them  the  Phila- 
delphia Coat  of  Arms  which  ornamented  his  hat, 
representing  the  shield  of  honor  and  the  scales  of 
Justice.  I  said,  "  It  is  beautiful  and  stands  for 
a  high  ideal."  He  replied  doubtfully,  "  Yes,  if 
it  is  carried  out," 

I  then  strolled  down  to  the  corner  of  Eleventh  and 

95 


96  ."BROKE" 

Race  Streets,  and  seeing  another  policeman  I  ap- 
proached him  with  the  question : 

"  Where  can  a  fellow  get  a  free  bed?" 

He  looked  at  me  in  surprise. 

"  I  don't  know.  You  might  go  down  to  the 
station  house  on  the  next  corner.  They  may  give 
you  a  bunk." 

I  walked  slowly  down  to  the  station  house.  Was 
it  possible  that  in  that  great  city  of  "  Brotherly 
Love,"  its  police  could  not  direct  a  destitute  man 
or  woman,  boy  or  girl,  to  a  place  of  rest,  to  a  home 
of  shelter, —  to  be  fed  and  given  comfort  and  good 
cheer, —  except  to  a  jail  and  behind  iron  bars? 

I  entered  the  station  where  there  were  a  number 
of  men  around  the  desk.  I  asked  the  Captain 
where  a  penniless  man  could  get  a  free  bed.  He 
asked, 

"  Haven't  you  the  price  of  a  bed?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not  a  penny  in  my  pocket." 

"  Well,  I'll  give  you  a  cell,"  he  said,  and  opened 
a  register  to  write  my  name.  I  asked, 

"  Is  there  not  a  place  in  the  city  where  a  man 
can  work  for  his  supper,  bed,  and  breakfast?  " 

"  None  that  I  know  of,"  was  the  answer.  Then 
an  officer  said, 

"  You  can  go  down  to  the  Galilee  Mission." 

I  asked  where  it  was,  and  they  directed  me. 
Just  as  I  turned  to  go  the  policeman  nearest  to  me 
handed  me  a  dime. 

I  started  as  directed,  down  to  Winter  and  Darian 


\/IUXICIPAL  Lodging  House,  New  York  City 
Men's  Shower  Baths 


MUNICIPAL  Lodging  House,  New  York  City 
Female  Showers  and  Wash  Rooms 


97 

Streets,  to  the  Galilee  Mission.  I  had  proceeded 
but  a  short  distance  when  I  saw  standing  on  a 
corner  one  of  the  great  army  of  workers.  His 
appearance  told  me  plainly  what  he  was, —  his 
hands  were  calloused,  and  his  half-worn  shoes 
were  covered  with  a  white  viscous  substance,  and 
a  dim  mist  of  lime  dust  clouded  his  entire  person. 
I  stepped  up  to  him  and  asked  where  I  could  get 
a  free  bed. 

"  Don't  know  of  such  a  place  in  the  city,  but  you 
can  get  a  bed  at  the  Lombard  Street  woodyard  by 
working  three  or  four  hours  for  it.  But  don't  go 
there  unless  you  have  to  —  they  won't  treat  you 
right." 

I  thanked  him  and  went  on  down  to  the  Mission. 
As  I  approached  it,  one  of  the  followers  of  the  Mis- 
sion, with  a  Bible  or  hymn-book  under  his  arm, 
was  at  the  door  in  an  altercation  with  one  of  the 
great  army  of  unfortunates.  The  man  had  an 
honest  face,  but  the  glazed  eyes  told  he  had  been 
drinking.  I  heard  the  attendant  say, 

"  Now,  you  get  out  of  here  or  I'll  fix  you !  I'll 
have  an  officer  here  in  a  minute,  and  he'll  land  you 
in  jail  in  pretty  quick  time." 

The  man  was  at  the  drinking  faucet  at  the  side 
of  the  building. 

"  I  haven't  done  anything.  All  I'm  doing  is  get- 
ting a  drink  of  water." 

What  the  trouble  was,  I  do  not  know,  but  what  I 
saw  was  a  seemingly  peaceable  man  abused,  thrown 


98  "BKOKE" 

out  on  the  street,  with  the  threat  hurled  after  him 
of  police  and  prison. 

I  stepped  around  to  another  one  of  the  attendants 
at  the  door,  and  I  asked  if  I  could  get  a  free  bed 
there.  He  said  in  a  hard  way,  "  No,  you  can't." 

"  I  am  willing  to  work  for  it." 

"  Well,  1  don't  know  whether  there's  any  left. 
If  there  is  by  half-past  nine  or  ten  you  can  have 
one,  but  you  understand  you'll  have  to  work  for  it." 

I  said,  "  I  am  not  very  strong.  Will  the  work 
be  hard?" 

"  If  you're  sick  why  don't  you  go  to  the  hospi- 
tal? " 

"  I'm  not  sick  enough  for  that.'' 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  if  you  get  a  bed 
here  you'll  have  to  work  good  and  hard  for  it 
whether  you're  sick  or  well." 

"  Could  I  get  anything  to  eat  before  going  to 
bed?" 

"  No,  you  can't,"  he  answered. 

I  then  strolled  down  to  the  "  Friendly  Inn,"  sup- 
posedly a  shelter  for  destitute  men,  located  on 
Ninth  and  Walnut  Streets.  I  asked  a  pleasant 
looking  young  man  behind  the  desk  if  I  could  get 
a  free  bed.  He  told  me  they  had  no  free  beds  nor 
any  work  to  do  to  pay  for  one,  but  added,  "  I  have 
no  authority,  but  if  you  will  wait  until  half-past 
ten  o'clock,  the  Manager  will  be  here  and  he  may 
give  you  one." 

Remembering  my  brief  encounter  with  the  work- 


"BROTHERLY  LOVE"  99 

ingman  on  the  corner,  I  did  not  wait  but  started 
for  the  "  Lombard  Street  woodyard."  After 
reaching  Lombard  Street  I  walked  for  half  a  mile, 
and  for  the  entire  distance  the  street  was  crowded 
with  people,  but  I  did  not  see  a  white  person  until 
I  reached  the  woodyard.  The  thrift  of  the  colored 
people  of  Philadelphia  was  markedly  noticeable. 
Saloons  were  rare  in  the  neighborhood.  Their 
homes  were  comfortable,  they  were  well  dressed 
and  seemingly  happy. 

I  came  to  a  large  four-story  substantial  brick 
building  with  a  small  iron  porch  at  its  entrance. 
There  was  an  iron  balcony  out  from  each  window 
and  over  the  entrance  door,  and  on  the  rear  a  sim- 
ilar row  of  balconies,  but  no  fire  escape  that  I 
could  discover.  If  the  building  had  not  been  so 
large  it  could  have  been  readily  taken  for  a  police 
station,  there  were  so  many  policemen  about  the 
place. 

I  entered  and  found  myself  in  the  presence,  ex- 
cept for  the  policemen,  of  the  first  white  man  I  had 
seen  on  Lombard  Street.  A  kindly  appearing 
gentleman  asked  me  a  number  of  questions,  and 
among  them  if  I  was  sick.  My  answer  apparently 
satisfactory,  he  said, 

"  You  will  have  to  work  for  your  lodging  here." 

I  asked,  "  How  long?  " 

He  replied,  "  Three  or  four  hours." 

I  was  then  ordered  to  take  a  bath,  which  was 
compulsory,  and  was  perfectly  right  and  a  good 


100  "BROKE" 

thing.  Water,  however,  does  not  cost  much. 
After  the  bath  I  was  shown  into  a  large  dormitory, 
thoroughly  ventilated  and  immaculately  clean 
(made  and  kept  so  by  homeless  workers)  con- 
taining fifty  beds,  of  which  thirty  were  occu- 
pied that  night.  The  beds  were  very  clean  and 
comfortable,  except  the  pillows,  which  wrere  pretty 
thin  and  hard.  I  judged  they  wrere  stuffed  with 
cotton,  and  cotton  gets  into  a  lump  sometimes. 
Some  of  the  men  coughed  all  night.  At  four 
o'clock,  for  some  reason,  one-half  of  the  men  were 
called,  and  why  they  were  called  at  that  hour  I 
could  not  learn.  At  five  o'clock  the  rest  of  us  were 
called.  I  had  slept  in  a  clean  ten-cent  bed  for  six 
hours,  and  was  then  driven  out.  For  the  spirit  to 
drive  is  also  evident  there.  When  we  went  into 
breakfast  there  was  some  bread  and  spoons  on 
the  table.  We  had  no  need  of  a  knife  and  fork,  as 
we  had  nothing  to  use  them  for.  We  were  then 
given  a  plate  of  bean  soup  and  a  cup  of  stuff  called 
coffee.  The  soup  had  a  nasty  taste,  like  rancid 
lard  or  strong  butter,  and  the  material  called  cof- 
fee was  luke-warm,  and  nauseating.  It  had  not 
the  slightest  flavor,  taste,  or  strength,  and  we  were 
not  given  sugar  or  milk.  This  was  our  breakfast. 
I  could  not  eat  or  drink  a  mouthful,  and  I  was  not 
the  only  one,  for  there  were  others  of  the  half- 
starved  boys  and  men  at  that  table  who  ate  nothing, 
and  those  who  did  eat  forced  it  down,  and  made 
faces  while  doing  so. 


"BROTHERLY  LOVE"  101 

Now,  this  was  not  because  I  was  used  to  Belle- 
vue-Stratford  fare,  for  I  have  roughed  it  through- 
out the  West  in  mining  and  cow  camps,  and  know 
good  coarse  food  from  nasty  coarse  food. 

We  then  went  down  in  the  reading-room,  a  sort 
of  chapel,  where  there  was  a  rostrum  with  an  or- 
gan and  a  pulpit  on  which  was  a  carved  cross. 
The  room  was  filled  with  chairs.  At  one  end  was 
a  large  table  covered  with  old  magazines  and 
papers.  Did  you  ever  notice  how  charity  people 
think  old  magazines  are  good  enough  for  a  poor 
man  no  matter  how  bright  mentally  he  may  be,  or 
how  much  he  loves  to  keep  up  with  the  times? 

We  were  told  we  would  have  to  wait  until  half- 
past  six  before  going  to  work.  I  almost  fainted 
from  hunger,  and  was  suffering  terribly  with  a 
headache.  I  went  down  to  the  door  and  asked  if 
I  could  go  out,  saying  I  would  return.  I  was  told, 
no,  I  could  not.  In  this  chapel  I  was  virtually 
imprisoned,  to  be  kept  there  and  turned  loose  at 
the  will  of  its  superintendent.  There  were  two 
big  well-fed  policemen  sleeping  on  the  chairs,  and 
I  fell  to  wondering  what  they  were  there  for,  and 
what  they  had  had  for  breakfast.  I  wondered  if 
they  were  there  to  watch  us,  and  I  said  to  one  boy 
in  a  tentative  way,  "  What's  the  matter  of  us 
making  a  sneak  ?  " 

He  replied,  "  No,  I  won't,  for  I  promised  I  would 
work,  and  if  they  catch  you  trying  to  make  a  sneak, 
they'll  throw  you  in  jail." 


102  "BROKE" 

Then  I  wondered  what  the  large  kindly  man  at 
the  desk,  who  did  not  have  to  wash  or  scrub  floors 
or  saw  wood,  had  had  for  breakfast,  and  what  the 
other  big  good-natured  attendant  had  had,  whose 
only  business  was  to  boss  the  "  under  dog."  I  also 
wondered  what  the  other  members  of  the  society 
of  organized  charities  had  had  for  breakfast,  and 
if  they  were  driven  out  of  bed  at  four  or  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning  to  eat  it. 

At  six-thirty  we  were  put  to  work.  A  number  of 
us  were  sent  to  the  woodyard  and  several  of  us 
were  put  to  washing,  cleaning,  and  scrubbing  the 
floors  and  stairs. 

I  was  set  to  washing,  and  I  asked  the  "  boss  " 
attendant,  "  How  long  will  I  have  to  work?  "  He 
replied,  "  three  or  four  hours,"  the  same  as  the  at- 
tendant had  told  me  at  the  door  when  I  entered. 
However,  after  working  from  half-past  six  until 
twenty-five  minutes  to  nine  —  kept  in  there  just  at 
the  time  when  I  ought  to  have  been  out  looking  for 
work  —  I  was  allowed  to  go. 

As  I  was  leaving  I  said  to  a  boy  about 
fifteen  years  of  age,  "Are  you  going  now?"  He 
said,  referring  to  the  attendant,  "  He's  not  told  me 
that  I  could  go.  These  people  treat  a  boy  mighty 
mean  here.  They  worked  me  from  half-past  six 
yesterday  morning  until  four-thirty  in  the  after- 
noon." 

"  Why  didn't  you  leave  after  you  had  worked 
for  your  bed  and  breakfast?  " 


103 

"  Well,  it  was  so  near  dinner  time,  and  I  won't 
beg  or  steal,  so  I  waited  for  the  cheap  dinner,  and 
they  worked  me,  as  I  told  you,  until  four-thirty 
in  the  afternoon,  but  I  am  going  to  try  to  get  a  job 
to-day,  if  possible." 

Does  Philadelphia  need  a  Municipal  Emergency 
Home?  Philadelphians,  you,  too,  send  your  dele- 
gation to  New  York  and  inspect  their  new  Munici- 
pal Emergency  Home,  that  you,  too,  may  have  one 
even  surpassing  that  New  York  Home,  or  at  least 
turn  the  one  you  have  into  a  humane  one,  for  you 
cannot  afford  to  have  New  York  surpass  you  in  its 
humanitarian  activities.  Keep  the  great  reputa- 
tion you  have  of  "  Brotherly  Love  "  and  "  Hospi- 
tality," and  if  you  do,  your  lives  and  your  city  will 
continue  resplendent,  and  this  new  refuge  will 
speak  in  wonderful  language  the  praise  of  "The 
City  of  Homes." 


CHAPTER  XI 

PlTTSBURG  AND  THE  WOLF 

'•  I  resolved  that  the  wolf  of  poverty  should  be  driven  from  my 
door." — ANDREW  CABNEGIE. 

OUR  train  was  late,  and  would  not  reach 
Pittsburgh  until  noon. 
The  porter  had  given  me  a  pillow,  and 
while  we  were  sliding  smoothly  down  that 
great  tongue  of  land  between  the  Monongahela 
and  Allegheny  Rivers,  where  in  1754  stood  an  old 
French  fort,  and  where  to-day  stands  Pittsburg, 
the  greatest  industrial  city  of  our  nation  with  its 
population  of  750,000  souls,  I  fell  into  a  half  wake- 
ful reverie.  I  was  thinking  of  its  steel,  and  its 
iron,  its  glass,  its  coal,  and  its  oil,  of  the  mighty 
fortunes  created  there  by  the  sweat  of  the  working 
masses;  of  the  few  who  had  made  those  great  for- 
tunes, of  the  struggle,  the  worry,  until  the  treasures 
of  the  earth  were  theirs,  until  they  possessed  gold 
and  silver,  and  houses  and  lands,  through  the  ex- 
ploitation of  those  who  must  toil.  We  think  or 
used  to  think  of  men  who  from  poverty  had 
achieved  great  wealth,  that  they  were  self-made 

104 


and  worthy  of  great  honor,  but  that  idea  seems  to 
be  growing  less  significant  nowadays.  I  thought 
of  the  scandals  that  are  rife,  and  that  have  come 
to  us  from  time  to  time  from  the  great  Iron  City, 
and  I  saw  that  achievement  had  left  in  many  cases, 
indelible  marks  in  a  wreckage  of  mutilated  homes 
and  lives.  Then  my  dream  changed  to  the  blue 
jeans,  to  the  great  industrial  army  of  bread  win- 
ners who  filled  just  as  great  a  place  of  import  in 
the  building  up  of  the  city,  and  of  its  great  for- 
tunes, as  did  the  few  who  exploit  them.  I  thought, 
too,  of  their  battles  of  the  past  for  equity  and  jus- 
tice, and  of  the  one  at  that  time  going  on  at  McKee's 
Rocks;  I  thought  of  the  lives  sacrificed  in  such 
battles,  of  the  contention  and  agony,  of  the  suffer- 
ing of  body  and  mind  for  life's  simple  necessities, 
and  all  to  keep  together  humble  homes,  to  protect 
the  manhood  of  honorable  American  citizens,  and 
to  insure  the  safety  of  little  children,  to  make  a 
living  wage  possible. 

We  were  nearing  the  city.  Surely,  I  thought, 
this  great  city,  with  its  vast  wealth,  must  abound 
in  privileges  to  labor.  I  have  heard  that  people 
who  achieve  great  wealth  do  not  always  forget. 
My  first  impulse  was  to  pass  right  through  without 
trying  to  investigate  conditions  in  Pittsburg,  for 
I  had  received  many  wounds  of  late  from  those  in 
charge  of  "  charitable "  institutions.  I  had  been 
misunderstood  and  severely  criticised,  called  a 
seeker  after  notoriety,  and  my  motives  had  been 


106  "BROKE'' 

questioned.  All  because  I  dared  to  prove  to  the 
world  that  the  institution  maintained  and  assisted 
by  private  charity,  especially  the  methods  of 
the  charity  organization  society,  cannot  stand 
the  test  of  an  honest  and  impartial  investiga- 
tion. 

I  was  weary  in  mind  and  body,  and  had  almost 
lost  sight  of  what  had  stood  out  before  me  as  duty. 
The  silent  voice  which  had  been  leading  me  on 
was  scarcely  perceptible.  I  had  been  reading  Vic- 
tor Hugo's  "  Les  Miserables,"  and  I  held  in  my 
hand  this  great  masterpiece.  Aroused  from  my 
lethargy  I  opened  the  volume  and  read,  "  A  man 
should  not  recoil  from  the  good  he  may  be  able  to 
do."  I  looked,  and  my  wounds  were  healed,  and 
thus  I  stopped  in  Pittsburg. 

I  found  a  neat  room  in  a  respectable  neighbor- 
hood, where  a  man  in  working  clothes  could  walk 
in  and  out  without  comment.  Soon  I  was  on  the 
street,  an  unemployed,  destitute  workingman,  ex- 
cept, as  I  discovered  afterwards,  that  I  had  in  one 
of  the  pockets  of  my  overalls  a  penny.  My  first 
object  was  to  look  for  work.  Inquiring  I  found 
that  it  was  estimated,  on  good  authority,  that  there 
were  50,000  unemployed  men  in  Pittsburg  and  its 
environs  at  that  time.  At  McKee's  Eocks  alone 
there  were  8,000. 

I  went  first  to  Pittsburgh  Street  Railway  Com- 
pany, where  I  found  one  hundred  and  fifty  young 
men  in  line  putting  in  their  applications  for  wrork 


PITTSBUKG  AND  THE  WOLF      107 

at  twenty-four  cents  an  hour.  If  those  applications 
were  accepted,  the  men  were  obliged,  and  were  will- 
ing, to  work  one  whole  week  for  nothing  to  become 
qualified.  I  did  not  file  an  application. 

I  picked  up  a  paper  and  read :  "  Ten  men 
wanted  as  supers  at  a  theater.  Apply  at  the  stage 
door  entrance."  I  went  to  the  place,  and  found 
fifty  men  waiting,  although  it  was  an  hour  before 
the  appointed  time.  There  were  men  of  all  ages 
and  types,  from  some  scarcely  more  than  boys  to 
old  men  of  seventy.  I  talked  with  a  dozen  who 
had  prospective  work  in  sight  and  were  willing  to 
do  anything  to  tide  themselves  over  until  their 
positions  were  secured.  One  man  said,  "  I  have  a 
place  in  a  wholesale  grocery  open  for  me  the  first 
of  next  week,  and  although  this  work  will  only  pay 
fifty  cents  a  performance,  it  will  buy  me  enough  to 
eat,  and  I  can  sleep  any  place  until  I  get  my  job. 
I  hope  they  will  choose  me."  Then  the  manager 
came  out  and  chose  his  ten  men,  the  largest, 
roughest  of  the  lot.  I  was  not  among  them,  and 
the  boy  who  was  going  to  work  in  the  wholesale 
grocery  was  still  on  the  street.  The  men  selected 
were  as  pleased  as  though  they  had  received  a 
Christmas  gift  that  would  not  wrear  out,  and  one 
big,  rough,  tough  looking  fellow,  with,  almost  tears 
of  joy  in  his  eyes,  said,  "  Who  would  have  tought 
dey  would  have  taken  me  wid  dis  front  on?  "  as  he 
looked  down  a-t  his  soiled  and  ragged  clothes;  and 
another  just  as  happy  replied,  "  What  do  ye  tink 


108  "BROKE" 

dey  want?  A  fellow  with  balloons  on  his  legs  and 
a  cane?  Naw,  dey  want  a  feller  that  can  do  some- 
thin'." 

I  then  drifted  around  among  the  employment 
offices,  and  found  a  little  army  looking  for,  and 
getting,  shipments  to  work.  As  I  strolled  about, 
I  found  a  carpenter's  rule,  which  I  picked  up  and 
slipped  in  the  upper  side  pocket  of  my  jumper. 
Strolling  along  a  little  further  I  saw  on  the  side- 
walk a  bright  new  nail.  I  don't  know  why  I  did 
it,  but  I  picked  it  up  also,  and  put  it  into  the  lower 
pocket  on  the  other  side.  The  night  was  coming 
down  and  I  was  very  tired  and  hungry.  I  began, 
as  an  indigent  man,  to  look  for  a  place  of  rest  and 
a  meal,  the  latter  a  thing  I  never  missed  on  these 
investigations,  but  often  had  to  postpone  for  long 
periods.  I  was  perfectly  willing  to  work  for  that 
privilege  if  I  could  find  such  a  place. 

I  was  compelled  to  try  the  so-called  "  Christian 
Missions,"  and  they  made  a  good  starting  point  for 
my  investigations, —  investigations  which  proved 
to  me  that  they  prey  upon  the  gullible  with  a  pre- 
tense of  helping  the  homeless. 

I  went  first  to  the  Salvation  Army  and  asked  for 
a  bed.  The  attendant  told  me  he  could  not  give 
me  one  as  their  lodging  house  was  run  for  profit 
and  not  for  charity. 

"  I  am  willing  to  work  for  it.  Have  you  no 
such  place." 

"  We  have,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  it  is  closed." 


PITTSBURG  AND   THE  WOLF      109 

Then  I  went  to  the  old  Liberty  Mission  on  Fourth 
Street  and  I  read  the  following  inscription  over  the 
door,  "  The  man  who  belongs  nowhere  belongs 
here."  Prayers  were  being  said  on  the  inside,  and 
the  doorway  was  blocked  by  a  desk  behind  which 
sat  a  negro.  I  asked  if  I  could  get  a  free  bed.  He 
answered,  "  You  can  for  ten  cents." 

Still  on  the  street,  I  made  my  way  to  the  Volun- 
teers of  America  on  Second  Avenue,  made  an  appeal 
for  a  bed,  and  was  flatly  denied  that  comfort  un- 
less I  had  twenty-five  cents  to  pay  for  it. 

So,  touched  by  the  lack  of  hospitality  offered  by 
"  Christian "  institutions  in  Pittsburg  to  an  in- 
digent man,  I  looked  straight  at  this  Volunteer, 
and  said  earnestly,  "  Is  there  no  place  in  all  this 
great  city  where  a  destitute  man  can  find  an  asy- 
lum for  only  one  night?  "  and  started  for  the  door. 
I  think  my  ardent  manner  created  a  little  suspi- 
cion, for  he  called  me  back  and  said,  "  You  might 
ask  the  Captain ;  he  is  out  there  holding  service  in 
the  street." 

I  stepped  out  just  as  they  concluded  their  ser- 
vice. I  addressed  one  of  the  followers  and  asked 
for  the  Captain.  "  He  has  just  gone,"  was  the 
answer,  "  but  what  do  you  want  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  am  without  means,  and  I  wanted  to  know  if 
he  would  give  me  a  bed  for  the  night." 

The  follower  said,  "  No,  I  don't  think  we  can,  but 
I  can  give  you  work.  Do  you  want  work?" 

"  I  do,  where  is  it,  and  what  is  it?  " 


110  "BROKE" 

The  work  proved  to  be  driving  one  of  their  wa- 
gons four  miles  out  in  the  country. 

"  And  what  do  they  pay?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know." 

I  said,  "  It  is  late  and  I  am  tired,  and  I  want  to 
be  taken  care  of  just  for  to-night.  I  may  find  work 
at  my  trade  to-morrow.  Do  you  see?" 

He  replied  with  a  sneer,  "  Oh,  yes  I  see,"  and  ab- 
ruptly turned  his  back  upon  me  and  went  in  to 
pray.  All  that  was  left  for  me  was  the  public 
park. 

Pittsburg  has  no  breathing  spots,  squares,  or 
parks  down  in  the  city,  although  there  is  a  large 
fine  park,  I  am  told,  several  miles  out.  Just  across 
the  Allegheny  River  in  Allegheny  City  (Greater 
Pittsburg)  is  a  beautiful  park  with  many  statues, 
fountains,  flowers,  and  trees;  but  I  must  cross  the 
bridge  and  the  toll  was  one  cent.  I  reached  down 
in  my  jeans  for  my  last  penny,  paid  my  toll,  and 
went  over.  How  lucky  I  was  in  having  that  one 
last  penny !  It  was  one  of  the  places  where  "  the 
penny  counts."  I  had  been  told  during  the  day 
that  one  of  the  inducements  offered  to  Allegheny 
City  for  coming  into  Pittsburg  was  that  this  toll, 
a  mighty  revenue,  would  be  abolished,  but  as  yet 
it  still  exists. 

What  a  night  of  midsummer  beauty  it  was !  No 
singer  ever  sung,  or  artist  ever  portrayed,  a  fairer 
scene !  I  was  very  tired  and  hungry,  and  dropped 
down  on  a  seat  to  rest  "And  the  cares  that  in- 


fest  the  day  seem  to  fold  up  their  tents  like  the 
Arabs  and  as  silently  steal  away."  I  could  have 
dropped  to  sleep  and  slept  with  the  peace  of  a  little 
child ;  with  no  covering  but  the  boughs  of  the  green 
trees,  with  no  watcher  but  the  stars  in  the  sea  of 
blue  above  me,  with  no  company  but  the  song  of  the 
night  bird  that  could  sing  all  night. 

Many  people  were  seated  on  the  benches.  Near 
me  were  two  men.  I  drew  a  little  nearer  to  them 
and  engaged  them  in  conversation. 

"  Are  you  out  of  a  job,  too?  "  one  of  them  asked. 
"  You  can't  remain  here  all  night,  if  you  are  think- 
ing of  sleeping  in  the  park,  for  the  police  will 
drive  you  out.  This  would  be  a  fine  place  to  rest, 
wouldn't  it?  We  would  like  to  remain  here  until 
daylight.  We  have  work  promised  us  at  Home- 
stead. We  might  as  well  walk  out  there  to-night, 
and  go  before  we  are  told  to  go."  The  last  words 
were  to  his  partner.  They  turned  to  me  again  say- 
ing, "  Good-night,  old  man,  hope  you'll  have  luck," 
and  were  gone. 

I  then  walked  a  long  way  up  the  park,  noticing 
that  already  it  had  been  cleared  of  its  weary  ones, 
that  they  had  been  driven  from  these  haunts  of 
nature  back  into  the  black  holes  of  the  city.  I 
saw  but  one  old  white-haired  man  sitting  with  his 
head  in  his  hands,  sound  asleep. 

I  stepped  up  to  him,  and  touching  him,  said, 
"  Why  don't  you  lie  down  on  the  bench  and  sleep ; 
you  would  rest  so  much  more  comfortably?" 


112  "BROKE" 

He  awoke  with  a  startled  look,  and  said,  "  I  am 
afraid." 

"  Afraid  of  what?  " 

In  a  frightened  manner  he  replied,  "  I  don't 
know." 

I  knew  he  was  afraid  of  the  police. 

"  I  don't  think  anyone  will  trouble  you."  He 
laid  his  old,  exhausted,  worn-out  frame  down  upon 
the  seat,  and  was  almost  immediately  lost  in  the 
slumber  he  so  needed.  I  had  left  him  but  a  mo- 
ment when  I  saw  a  policeman  in  the  distance  who 
stopped  and  viewed  me  closely,  then  turned  and 
went  in  the  direction  of  the  old  man.  I  was  in- 
clined to  follow  him,  but  I  did  not  dare,  nor  could 
I  wait  to  see  the  pathetic  finish.  I  strolled  back 
down  the  park  and  saw  by  a  light  in  a  distant 
tower  that  it  was  midnight.  The  park  seemed  ut- 
terly deserted  but  for  a  dog  sleeping  under  a  bush. 

I  went  back  to  the  gate  by  which  I  had  entered, 
and  sat  down  near  it.  Between  there  and  the 
bridge  was  the  part  of  the  city  given  over  to  dens  of 
vice,  which  are  open  all  night,  among  them  being 
scattered  places  of  legitimate  business  which  are 
open  only  in  the  light  of  day,  and  in  the  night  af- 
ford a  deeper  shelter  for  crime  and  the  criminal.  I 
took  a  Scat  near  the  entrance  thinking  that  I  would 
wait  until  an  officer  came  along,  and  get  an  actual 
example  of  his  treatment  to  a  man  in  my  position. 

The  moon  was  setting  behind  the  towers  of  the 
city.  The  shadows  were  lengthening;  that  part  of 


PITTSBURG  AND  THE  WOLF      113 

the  city  near  at  hand  looked  grewsome.  The  park 
was  silent  and  somber.  As  I  waited  I  saw  two 
men  standing  in  the  shadow  just  outside  the  park ; 
from  their  manner,  I  knew  they  were  discussing 
me.  Presently  they  started  through  the  entrance 
toward  me,  and  as  they  did  so  one  of  the  men  put 
his  hand  in  his  lower  coat  pocket.  Half  protrud- 
ing from  the  pocket  I  caught  the  gleam  of  a  revol- 
ver. As  they  approached,  my  heart  for  a  moment 
seemed  to  stand  still.  I  did  not  dare  to  run  or 
cry  out.  I  simply  arose  and  stood  behind  the 
bench.  They  walked  rapidly  and  directly  toward 
me.  When  they  came  near  enough  to  observe  me 
closely  they  stopped.  Then  one  of  them  said  in  a 
disgusted  manner,  "  I  told  you  so;  it's  only  a  hobo," 
and  they  hurriedly  turned  and  left  me. 

I  had  to  get  back  to  Pittsburg,  and  learn  what 
it  means  to  the  fullest  to  be  a  homeless  man  in  this 
great  industrial  center.  It  came  to  me  that  I  had 
spent  my  last  penny  coming  over.  How  could  I 
get  back?  Surely  it  was  the  place  where  the  penny 
counts!  During  the  day  I  had  been  told  that 
the  only  free  crossing  between  Pittsburg  and  Al- 
legheny was  the  railroad  bridge,  used  by  the  rail- 
road employees.  I  must  find  that.  In  spite  of  my 
startling  experience,  I  was  compelled  to  thread  the 
gloom  of  this  black  part  of  the  city  to  find  the 
bridge. 

I  found  it  and  started  to  walk  the  ties,  fearing 
at  any  moment  that  the  headlight  of  a  fast  ap- 


114  "BROKE" 

preaching  train  might  flash  upon  me.  Suddenly 
I  slipped  on  an  oiled  tie,  falling.  In  the  darkness 
I  threw  out  my  hand,  clutching  an  iron  rod.  In 
my  stumble  I  discovered  for  the  first  time  that  two 
planks  had  been  laid  on  the  side  of  the  bridge 
where  one  could  safely  walk.  With  a  feeling  of 
relief  and  security,  I  quickly  stepped  upon  them, 
and  the  rest  of  my  walk  upon  the  bridge  was  filled 
with  a  feeling  of  gratitude  for  my  escape. 

Shortly  after  crossing  the  bridge,  I  saw  a  police- 
man and  asked  him  where  I  could  get  a  free  bed, 
or  if  I  would  be  allowed  to  sleep  in  the  park.  He 
gave  me  a  severe  look  and  in  a  harsh  manner  said, 
"  No,  there  is  no  free  beds  in  this  town,  and  you 
can't  sleep  in  the  park,  either." 

I  said  I  knew  some  people  on  Fifth  Avenue  who, 
perhaps,  would  take  me  in,  but  I  did  not  care  to 
trouble  them  at  that  hour.  I  asked  him  the  way 
to  the  Avenue  and  he  directed  me.  I  had  gone 
scarcely  half  a  block  when  he  commanded  me  to 
stop. 

He  came  up  to  me  and  said  roughly,  "  Who  are 
you,  anyway?  I  don't  believe  you  have  a  place  to 
go." 

I  replied  that  I  was  an  honest  man. 

"  What  is  your  business?  What  do  you  do?  " 
were  his  next  questions. 

With  no  other  thought,  except  that  I  must  an- 
swer something,  I  told  him  that  I  was  a  carpenter. 
He  started  to  search  me  and  all  he  found  was  the 


PITTSBURG  AND   THE   WOLF      115 

carpenter's  rule  and  the  nail  which  I  had  picked 
up  the  previous  day. 

After  that  process,  which  by  the  way  was  quite 
illegal,  he  softened  toward  me  somewhat  and  said, 
"  Well,  you  seem  to  be  an  honest  man,  and  if  you 
have  no  other  place  to  go  you  can  go  to  the  city 
prison,"  and  pointing  to  a  bright  light  some  dis- 
tance down  an  alley,  added,  "  It  is  over  there. 
They'll  give  you  a  cell." 

With  his  eye  upon  me,  in  spite  of  some  hesita- 
tion I  had  to  go  as  he  directed.  I  reached  the 
prison  and  entered,  and,  as  I  had  done  in  other 
cities,  asked  for  a  place  to  lie  down  until  day- 
light. 

I  was  asked  no  questions.  The  night  sergeant 
simply  said,  "  Come  this  way,"  and  he  locked  me 
in  a  cell  which,  although  it  was  not  of  the  bull-pen 
type,  was  little  better  than  one  in  its  general  ap- 
pearance and  condition  of  uncleanliness.  The  only 
places  in  it  where  I  could  lie  down  were  the  floor 
or  an  iron  slab  which  partly  covered  the  lantine. 
I  could  hear  the  groanings  of  the  unfortunate  men 
and  women  who,  for  reasons  of  their  own,  were 
compelled  to  spend  their  nights  in  prison.  I  could 
hear  other  prisoners  appealing  to  the  jailers  for 
medical  aid,  water,  or  release  from  their  cells. 
One  young  fellow  in  a  cell  opposite  mine,  for  about 
two  hours  hung  in  one  position  to  the  bars  of  his 
cell  in  an  endeavor  to  attract  some  attention. 
Every  little  while  I  heard  the  crying  of  a  young 


116  "BROKE" 

girl,  one  who  had  "  forgotten  her  mother  and  her 
God." 

Never  in  any  prison  did  I  feel  such  oppression. 
I  came  near  swooning.  The  thread  of  endurance 
as  I  lay  on  the  stone  floor  snapped,  and  the  dark- 
ness that  came  upon  me  brought  forgetfullness. 

My  sleep  was  of  short  duration.  Long  before 
daylight  I  asked  to  be  released.  The  jailer,  who 
seemed  to  hold  a  spark  of  humanity,  said,  "  I 
wouldn't  go  out  if  I  were  you  for  the  police  are 
liable  to  pick  you  up."  Shortly  after  dawn  I  was 
released. 

Taking  my  belongings  from  my  lodging  house  I 
left  for  more  comfortable  quarters.  After  a  re- 
freshing bath  and  a  restful  sleep  I  interviewed  the 
Mayor  of  Pittsburg  and  the  members  of  the  City 
Council,  and  gave  an  interview  to  the  newspapers. 

On  the  following  morning,  while  passing  by  a 
newspaper  office,  I  noticed  on  the  bulletin  board  a 
headliner  reading: 

"  Free  beds  for  the  homeless  poor  of  Pittsburg." 


CHAPTER  XII 

OMAHA  AND  HER  HOMELESS 

"  A  good  mayor  is  useful;  a  man  should  not  recoil  before  the 
good  he  may  be  able  to  do." — HUGO. 

IN  the  Antelope  State,  on  the  Big  Muddy  River, 
on  a  plateau  rising  from  the  west  bank  of  the 
river  is  built  the  city  of  Omaha,  the  metrop- 
olis of  the  State,  with  a  population  of  150,000  peo- 
ple. Omaha  was  called  the  "  Gate  City  "  on  ac- 
count of  its  important  commercial  position  when  it 
was  founded  in  1854.  It  was  one  of  the  first  to 
breathe  of  the  mighty  progress  of  civilization  in  our 
great  West;  and,  like  all  of  our  growing  Western 
cities,  is  eminently  an  industrial  center  —  meat 
packing,  breweries,  smelters,  machine  shops,  brick 
yards, —  and  it  is  an  important  railway  center.  Be- 
cause of  all  of  this,  it  continually  beckons  through 
its  portals  a  vast  number  of  the  army  of  the  seekers 
after  work.  Omaha,  too,  boasts  of  its  culture  and 
humanity,  and  of  a  social  distinction  around  which 
cluster  names  which  in  the  years  to  come  will  be  in- 
timately connected  with  the  history  of  the  country. 

I  reached  Omaha  on  a  Sunday  morning  in  Sep 
117 


118  "BROKE'' 

tember.  What  a  gloomy  day  for  the  penniless 
toiler  this  God's  day  is,  in  the  great  city,  when  un- 
washed, unfed,  and  homeless,  he  walks  the  streets ! 
All  places  for  obtaining  work  are  closed  and  he 
can  simply  drift  until  Monday  morning,  when  in- 
dustrial activity  is  resumed. 

I  found  the  city  of  Omaha  spending  thousands  of 
dollars  for  the  entertainment  and  amusement  of 
visitors  to  the  annual  convention  of  a  great  frater- 
nal organization.  While  its  stores  and  blocks  and 
public  buildings  had  been  placed  on  dress  parade 
with  gaudy  decorations,  and  while  the  glad  hand 
of  hospitality  was  stretched  out  to  these  guests  from 
thousands  of  its  citizens,  there  was  no  welcome 
for  the  honest  laborer  who  might  happen  to  be 
homeless  and  penniless  within  its  gates,  and  no 
provision  for  him  but  the  filthy  concrete  floor  of 
the  huge  steel  cages,  beneath  the  crumbling 
plastered  walls  of  the  city  jail. 

I  walked  down  the  darker  streets  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  city  where  the  out-of-work  are  forced  to 
gather.  In  Boston  I  thought  I  had  never  seen 
such  a  gathering  of  human  misery  as  I  found 
on  Boston  Common,  but  nowhere  have  I  found  that 
condition  so  evident  in  a  smaller  way  than  in 
Omaha. 

Approaching  a  policeman,  I  asked  for  the  public 
baths.  It  was  my  first  test  to  find  out  what  our 
Western  cities  were  doing  to  provide  that  great 
sanitary  necessity.  I  was  told  there  was  "  nothing 


OMAHA  AND   HER  HOMELESS      119 

doing/'  and  the  policeman  glanced  significantly 
towards  the  "  Big  Muddy."  I  do  not  know  of  a 
single  public  bath  west  of  Chicago  except  in  Denver. 

I  then  decided  to  try  for  the  first  time  the  Young 
Men's  Christian  Association,  which  poses  as  an  in- 
stitution assisting  those  needing  help,  and  which 
is  supported  by  benevolently  inclined  contributors 
and  its  income  enhanced  in  the  same  way.  When 
I  applied  at  the  Omaha  Y.  M.  C.  A.  for  a  free  bed 
and  bath,  a  most  affable,  well-dressed,  neat-looking 
clerk  behind  the  desk  assured  me  nothing  would 
give  him  greater  pleasure  than  to  accomodate  me, 
but  their  beds  and  rooms  were  fixed  up  "pretty 
nicely,"  in  fact,  too  nicely  to  be  given  away.  Then 
I  asked  for  a  bath,  and  he  assured  me  that  was  a 
member's  privilege  only. 

I  then  sought  the  Salvation  Army.  My  answer 
there  was  to  the  effect  that  if  they  gave  fellows 
like  me  free  beds  they  would  be  overran  every 
night. 

Next  I  went  to  the  Union  Gospel  Mission  on 
Douglas  Street.  The  door  to  the  lodging  house 
upstairs  was  locked.  Downstairs  a  gospel  meet- 
ing was  being  held.  I  waited  until  the  meeting 
was  concluded.  The  dormitory  was  not  open, 
there  were  bright  lights  there,  and  people  were  go- 
ing to  their  beds.  I  approached  the  attendant, 
who  was  closing  the  door,  and  asked  him  if  he 
would  give  me  a  bed.  He  kept  right  on  closing 
the  door  in  my  face,  meanwhile  saying  that  he 


120  "BROKE" 

wished  that  he  had  a  free  bed  himself,  that  he 
slept  in  the  street  when  he  hadn't  "  the  price." 

I  then  applied  to  members  of  the  Volunteers  of 
America.  They  could  do  nothing  for  me  as  they 
had  no  lodging  house,  but  thought  I  might  find 
shelter  at  the  City  Mission.  I  went  there  and 
found  the  place  locked  and  dark.  It  was  a  recep- 
tion about  as  cordial  as  that  which  I  received  once 
at  Genoa  where  I  went  to  visit  the  birthplace  of 
Columbus.  After  standing  on  tiptoe  reaching  up 
and  ringing  the  bell  of  that  curious  house  for  about 
five  minutes  a  barber  stepped  out  of  the  house  next 
door  and  said  in  a  mixture  of  Italian  and  broken 
English :  "  Eh,  Miestro  Colombo,  eh  not-a-to- 
home.  No  ring-a-de  bell  so  damn-a  loud.  Miestro 
Colombo  eh  dead,  all  a-right  dead, —  yes-a-four  hun- 
dred years ! " 

Later  with  two  or  three  other  "  down  and  outs," 
I  lay  down  on  the  grass  in  Jefferson  Park.  Very 
soon  a  policeman  came  along  and  drove  us  out. 
"  How  many  times  have  I  got  to  tell  you  fellows  to 
get  out  of  here?  Now,  get  out  of  here!  " 

A  short  time  afterward  I  met  another  policeman 
and  asked  him  where  I  could  get  a  free  bed,  telling 
him  I  was  broke.  He  looked  at  me  rather  savagely 
and  said,  "  You  can't  get  nothing  like  that  in  this 
town."  Then  he  added,  "  You  might  go  to  the  city 
jail,  but  it  is  chock  full  now  that  the  car  strike  is 
on." 

By  this  time  it  was  midnight.     From  down  in 


OMAHA  AND   HER  HOMELESS      121 

the  lower  part  of  the  city  I  saw  a  man  standing 
listlessly  on  the  curbing.  In  a  moment  he  sat 
clown.  I  strolled  along  and  sat  down  beside  him. 
He  was  penniless,  starving,  had  eaten  nothing  since 
morning,  and  had  no  place  to  rest,  but  he  was  not 
hopeless.  In  fact,  he  was  in  a  rather  happy  mood, 
for  he  had  a  place  to  work  ten  miles  out  in  the 
country,  on  a  farm  for  one  dollar  and  a  half  a  day 
and  board,  and  if  he  made  good  it  would  be  an  all 
winter  job.  Soon  after  daybreak  he  was  going  to 
start  out.  When  I  told  him  I,  too,  was  without  a 
place  to  sleep,  he  told  me  I  was  welcome  to  his 
blankets  which  he  had  down  in  an  old  shed  under 
the  tracks  where  the  owner  had  let  him  spread 
them  down  the  night  before.  He  doubted,  how- 
ever, whether  I  could  stand  it. 

"  I  tried  it  last  night,  but  if  there  was  one  I  be- 
lieve there  were  ten  thousand  rats  infesting  the 
place.  I  was  fearful  of  losing  myself  for  one  min- 
ute for  fear  they  might  attack  me,  and  so  I  spent 
the  night  just  as  I  am  spending  this  one.  The 
farmer  did  not  want  me  to  come  out  until  Monday 
morning,  although  I  wanted  to  go  out  Saturday 
with  him  when  he  hired  me." 

Thoroughly  tired  out,  I  bade  my  hopeful  mid- 
night acquaintance  good-night,  and  sought  my 
hotel.  As  I  lay  in  my  comfortable  bed  I  thought  of 
the  homeless,  moneyless  ones  who  belonged  to 
Omaha  that  night  and  who  were  shelterless  and 
hungry. 


122  "BROKE" 

The  next  day  I  visited  the  City  Jail.  There 
I  found  eight  ten-by-ten  cells,  the  bull-pens. 
Crowded  into  a  single  one  of  these,  I  counted  four- 
teen men.  The  shocking  closeness  of  the  place  was 
stifling,  and  I  hurried  out. 

I  saw,  far  up  the  street,  a  great  mob  pressing 
down,  and  as  soon  as  I  got  within  hearing  and  see- 
ing distance,  I  made  out  two  men  driving  a  team 
of  horses  hitched  to  an  old  wagon  partly  filled  with 
potatoes.  The  men  were  driving  directly  down  the 
car  track,  hindering  the  traffic  of  the  cars.  Two 
policemen  stood  back  of  these  men  trying  to  get 
hold  of  the  lines,  and  they  were  beating  them  or 
trying  to  beat  them  into  insensibility.  The  men's 
shirts  were  torn  into  shreds  and  the  blood  ran 
down  over  their  faces  and  over  their  clothes  to  the 
bottom  of  the  wagon.  I  did  not  find  what  the 
trouble  was  about,  but  it  was  as  though  I  had 
caught  a  leaf  from  those  other  days  of  social  un- 
rest, when  the  poor  of  France  cried  for  bread,  and 
the  thoughtless  paid  so  dearly  for  their  folly. 

There  was  no  place  for  a  homeless  man  in  Omaha 
that  night  —  not  even  in  the  city  jail.  A  strike 
was  on. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SAN  FRANCISCO  —  THE  MISSION,,  THE  PRISON,,  AND 
THE  HOMELESS 

"  Liberty  to  the  captive,  and  the  opening  of  the  prison  to  them 
that  are  lound." — ISAIAH  61:1. 

HAVING  received  many  letters  from  the 
Pacific  Coast  inviting  me  to  come  that 
way,  and  having  heard  what  a  Mecca  for 
the  itinerate  worker  it  was,  I  felt  impelled  to  in- 
vestigate the  "  Commercial  Emporium "  of  the 
Western  shore.  I  had  already  made  my  appeal  to 
Salt  Lake  City,  so  I  went  directly  through  from 
Denver  to  the  "  Golden  Gate."  I  arrived  in  San 
Francisco,  one  of  the  most  wonderful  and  beauti- 
ful cities  in  all  the  world,  on  Monday,  February  8, 
and  began  at  once  my  serious  study  of  the  prob- 
lem I  had  come  to  investigate  —  the  problem  of 
the  man  who  works  but  who  may  be  playing  in 
hard  luck;  the  penniless  man  temporarily  out  of 
a  job;  the  unfortunate  boy  seeking  work  far  from 
home. 

I  found  the  wheels  of  progress  and  industry  in 
the  city  exceedingly  active  and  bright ;  yet  I  found 

123 


124  "BROKE" 

a  great  many  men  out  of  work.  The  employment 
offices  were  crowded  to  overflowing.  I  found  the 
men  at  the  head  of  these  institutions  perfectly  will- 
ing to  get  a  man  a  job  at  thirty  dollars  a  month, 
for  a  fee  of  two  dollars  and  a  half,  or  fifteen  dol- 
lars a  month  for  a  fee  of  one  dollar  and  a  half, 
but  they  refused  point-blank  to  tide  a  man  over, 
that  is,  to  trust  him  for  the  fee  until  he  drew  his 
first  pay. 

I  stood  one  morning  in  one  of  the  employment 
offices  in  this  great  city  and  counted  there  two  hun- 
dred workingmen,  looking  for  work.  By  my  side 
was  a  boy,  hungry,  homeless,  penniless,  who  could 
not  go  to  work  because  he  had  not  the  price  to  pay 
for  that  privilege.  Until  he  could  get  the  price, 
he  must  beg,  steal,  or  continue  to  starve.  His 
shelter  two  nights  before  had  been  divided  between 
the  doorway  of  a  freight  house  and  the  city  prison, 
and  the  previous  night  in  a  "  free  flop  "  mission. 

"  I  am  not  clean,"  he  said,  "  I  am  soiled  and 
ragged  and  no  one  wants  me  around,"  and  added, 
"God,  if  I  could  only  get  rid  of  the  things  that 
were  given  me  last  night,  without  money  and 
without  price." 

I  said  to  him,  "  Go  to  the  public  bath,"  and  he 
asked  with  an  expectant  look  on  his  face,  "  Where 
is  it?"  I  replied,  "I  don't  know,"  and  he  said, 
"  Even  though  I  took  a  bath,  these  are  the  only 
clothes  I  have,  and  they  must  be  cleaned." 

I  did  just  what  ten  thousands  of  the  good  citi- 


SAN  FRANCISCO  125 

zens  of  San  Francisco  are  doing  every  day,  I 
helped  the  temporal  needs  of  that  boy;  but  it  was 
a  wasted  effort,  and  I  knew  it,  for  the  next  night 
he  may  have  fared  doubly  worse  than  this  one. 

The  boy  told  me  a  bit  of  his  life's  history  and  the 
reason  for  his  condition.  He  told  it  in  such  a 
clear,  straightforward  way,  he  impressed  me  that 
he  was  telling  the  truth. 

"  My  father  is  a  merchant  in  Ohio  and  fairly 
well-to-do.  I  had  a  position  in  one  of  my  home 
town  banks  as  assistant  teller  and  bookkeeper,  get- 
ting seventy-five  dollars  a  month.  Although  I 
am  but  eighteen  years  of  age  I  felt  I  was  capable 
and  ought  to  be  earning  more  money.  The  insti- 
tution I  was  working  for  felt  they  could  not  af- 
ford to  raise  my  wages,  and  having  a  friend  coming 
West,  and  also  having  that  dream  for  the  West, 
all  of  us  Eastern  boys  have,  and  having  fine  letters 
of  merit,  I  thought  I  could  better  myself,  and  I 
left,  coming  directly  through  to  San  Francisco. 
My  ticket,  however,  was  good  to  Los  Angeles. 

"  After  spending  ten  days  here,  I  found  it  was 
impossible  to  get  work  in  my  line  of  business  even 
though  I  offered  to  take  much  less  than  I  was  get- 
ting at  home.  Realizing  that  my  money  was  fast 
slipping  away,  I  went  on  to  Los  Angeles,  where  I 
found  even  a  more  discouraging  condition  than 
here. 

"  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  endure  anything 
before  I  would  ask  assistance  from  home,  and  so  I 


126  "BROKE" 

filled  my  letters  with  tales  of  prosperity  and 
wonderful  prospects.  But  finally,  my  money  was 
all  gone  as  well  as  my  personal  effects,  including 
two  hundred  dollars  worth  of  fine  clothes,  which 
the  pawnshops  got  for  a  few  dollars.  My  chum 
had  returned  East,  and  then  I  began  to  look  for 
anything  to  do.  I  started  into  the  country.  The 
hardships  I  have  endured  in  trying  to  live  and  find 
work  in  the  California  cities  would  fill  a  book,  but 
the  hardest  experience  of  all  was  at  Santa  Anna, 
where  I  was  arrested  and  thrown  into  the  Santa 
Anna  jail  for  ten  days,  for  illegally  attaching  my- 
self to  the  Santa  Fe  Railway,  and  aimlessly 
wandering  about  with  no  visible  means  of  support, 
and  no  objective  place  in  view.  I  lost  my  hat  the 
afternoon  I  was  arrested  in  Santa  Anna,  and  when 
I  left  the  sheriff  gave  me  this  one.  It  was  a  pretty 
good  '  lid '  when  he  gave  it  to  me.  And  so  I  made 
my  way  back  here,  and  if  I  don't  strike  something  to 
do  to-morrow  I  am  going  into  the  army.  They  will 
have  to  write  Dad  and  get  his  consent.  They  will 
take  care  of  me  until  they  hear  from  him.  Good- 
bye, old  man,  thanks  to  you,  I  am  all  right  now 
until  I  hear  from  home." 

Here  was  a  young  man,  strictly  temperate,  with- 
out one  visible  evil  habit,  a  young  man  of  brain, 
brawn,  grit;  just  such  boys  as  California  wants, 
needs,  and  should  help  and  keep,  and  it  had  no 
place  for  him ! 

The  rest  of  that  day  I  tramped  the  streets  look- 


SAN  FRANCISCO  127 

ing  for  work,  and  I  inquired  at  a  hundred  places, 
I  think,  where  work  was  going  on,  but  all  places 
seemed  filled  and  no  one  seemed  to  want  me  —  at 
least  not  that  afternoon.  At  several  restaurants 
they  offered  to  let  me  help  wash  dishes  for  some- 
thing to  eat 

I  could  have  begged,  it  is  true,  without  being  ar-  f 
rested,  as  the  labor  Mayor  at  that  time  was  in 
every  sense  a  humanitarian,  and  soon  after  taking 
office  had  issued  a  mandate  to  his  police  depart- 
ment to  molest  no  one  on  the  street  asking  alms. 
When  remonstrated  with,  he  said,  "  We  may  be 
imposed  upon  many  times,  but  I  would  rather  help 
twenty  dishonest  men  than  turn  down  one  honest 
one." 

The  spirit  of  alms-giving  in  San  Francisco  was 
markedly  noticeable,  and  I  asked  a  man  whom  I 
saw  hand  a  dollar  to  a  man  who  asked  for  aid, 
why  that  spirit  was  so  active.  He  replied,  "  If  you 
had  been  here  and  gone  through  the  terrible  earth- 
quake with  us,  you  would  fully  understand.  We 
were  all  dependent  on  one  another  at  that  time. 
We  have  all  realized  what  it  means  to  be  homeless. 
We  have  not  forgotten." 

This  observation  seemed  to  apply  only  to  the 
Mayor's  order  and  to  the  citizens  in  general  as  I  met 
them  on  the  street ;  for  I  found  the  religious  bodies 
of  an  entirely  different  nature, —  those  at  least, 
with  which  I  came  in  contact,  not  being  remark- 
ably generous. 


128  "BROKE" 

The  night  was  coming  down.  It  was  exceed- 
ingly ominous  to  a  destitute  man.  It  had  begun 
to  storm,  with  a  commingling  of  rain  and  snow, 
and  a  chilly  blast  from  the  ocean. 

Myriads  of  lights  came  out  like  a  burst  of  good 
cheer  from  the  Ferry  House  to  Golden  Gate  Park, 
but  they  held  no  warmth  for  the  penniless,  thinly 
clothed  man.  The  restaurant  windows  seemed  to 
glow  with  good  things.  I  saw  many,  very  many 
boys  and  men,  and  occasionally  a  poorly  clad  girl, 
stand  and  look  longingly  at  the  tempting  viands. 
I  saw  one  young  fellow  down  on  Third  Street 
standing  before  a  cheap  but  exceedingly  clean  res- 
taurant, whose  windows  were  filled  with  tempting, 
wholesome  food.  I  stopped  and  watched  him. 
Among  the  passing  crowd  was  a  workingman  with 
a  dinner  pail.  The  young  man  reluctantly,  it 
seemed  to  me,  asked  of  him  a  dime.  The  working- 
man  strode  on,  but  had  gone  only  a  few  steps  when 
he  turned  back.  Stepping  up  to  the  young  fellow, 
he  put  his  arm  about  his  shoulder  and  said,  "  What 
would  you  do  with  the  dime  if  I  gave  it  to  you?  " 
The  penniless  man's  face  beamed  with  joy  and  ap- 
preciation of  the  sympathy  shown,  as  he  said,  "  I 
would  buy  something  to  eat."  The  workingman 
gave  him  a  quarter,  a  part  of  his  day's  wages,  and 
the  hungry  man  entered  the  restaurant,  and  ate  as 
though  he  had  been  denied  that  blessing  for  a  very 
long  time.  The  workingman,  as  he  went  his  way, 
I  heard  whistling  far  down  the  street. 


rV^HE  Small  Dark  Door  Leads  down  under  the  Sidewalk  and  Sa- 
loon. San  Francisco  Free-flop  of  Whosoever-W  ill-Mission  " 


SAN  FRANCISCO  129 

In  this  incident  I  saw  in  imagination  the  spirit 
of  San  Francisco's  beautiful  Municipal  Lodging 
House,  with  its  food,  shelter,  bath,  and  medical  at- 
tention, building  up  of  character,  good  citizenship, 
and  making  for  good  government.  I  felt  that  the 
spirit  of  kindness  shown  by  that  workingman  would 
be  the  crowning  virtue  of  this  new  and  wonderful 
Home. 

It  was  getting  late.  I  was  very  tired,  and  knew 
I  must  find  shelter  from  the  storm.  I  would  not 
ask  of  anyone  on  the  street  the  price  of  a  bed. 
Someone  out  of  pity  might  give  me  money  he 
actually  needed  for  himself.  I  decided  to  seek 
first  some  of  the  Good  Samaritan  institutions 
which  make  a  business  of  helping  the  needy.  But 
where  they  were  I  could  only  find  out  by  inquiring 
of  the  policeman.  I  must  approach  them  with  all 
that  dread  and  terror  excited  by  the  expectation 
of  evil  which,  all  destitute  men  in  our  American 
"  cities  of  liberty  "  come  to  look  for  at  the  hands  of 
the  police. 

I  approached  an  officer  and  asked  him,  "  Can 
you  tell  a  fellow  where  he  can  get  a  free  bed?" 

He  did  not  look  at  me  suspiciously;  he  did  not 
take  the  law  in  his  own  hands  by  questioning  me 
on  the  street;  he  simply  placed  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder  in  a  kindly  way  and  said,  "  Eight  here  is 
Kerney  Street.  Keep  right  down  Kerney  until  you 
come  to  Pacific,  —  you  can't  miss  Pacific  Street,  — 
and  you  will  see  the  '  Whosoever  Will '  Mission. 


130  "BKOKE" 

They  have  some  kind  of  a  '  free  flop '  there,  but  if 
they  don't  take  care  of  you,  go  to  the  city  prison." 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  I  approached  the 
"  Whosoever  Will "  Mission.  The  meeting  had 
just  closed.  I  counted  twenty  men  and  boys 
standing  on  the  street  outside  of  the  place.  I 
slipped  up  to  one  of  the  boys  and  asked  where  the 
"  free  flop  "  was.  He  said,  "  About  a  block  down 
the  street."  I  asked  him,  "  What  is  the  show  for 
getting  a  free  bed?  "  "  Mighty  poor,"  he  replied, 
"  us  fellows  all  got  left.  If  you  want  a  bed  you 
have  got  to  be  here  and  go  to  the  meeting  and  if  you 
are  lucky  enough  to  get  a  ticket  you  can  get  a  bed." 

Just  then  I  glanced  through  the  door  and  read  an 
inscription,  "  He  that  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in 
no  wise  cast  out."  In  making  a  closer  study  of 
this  institution,  I  found  it  in  appearance  a  veri- 
table Cleopatra's  Needle  literally  covered  with 
quotations  inside  and  out.  I  then  asked  where  the 
lodging  house  was,  and  if  he  thought  a  man  would 
stand  any  show  of  getting  a  bed  without  a  ticket. 
He  replied,  "  You  might  try,"  and  directed  me 
to  the  "  free  flop  "  a  block  down  the  street  on  the 
corner.  There  I  encountered  about  twenty  more 
men  standing  idly  about.  Seeing  a  light  through  a 
door,  I  entered,  believing  I  was  entering  the  "  free 
flop,"  but  found  myself  in  a  negro  saloon  frequented 
entirely  by  colored  men.  I  went  out  again  into  the 
crowd,  and  stepped  up  to  a  thin,  emaciated  boy, 
a  boy  evidently  dying  with  some  lingering  malady. 


SAN  FKANCISCO  131 

I  asked  him  where  the  "  flop  "  was,  and  he  pointed 
down  to  the  sidewalk  and  said,  "  It  is  under 
here,  the  entrance  is  there  at  the  corner."  I 
slipped  over  to  it,  and  found  a  very  narrow  and 
almost  precipitous  stairway  leading  down  under 
the  sidewalk  and  into  a  basement  under  the  saloon. 
This  stairway  was  absolutely  gorged  with  human 
beings  seeking  shelter.  After  seeing  that  the  sick 
boy  had  entered  last  and  that  I  might  force  him 
back  into  the  night,  I  entered,  and  when  it  was 
discovered,  before  I  had  scarcely  gotten  into  the 
place,  that  I  had  no  ticket,  a  big  bully  violently 
thrust  me  toward  the  door  and  in  a  loud  voice 
shouted,  "  Get  out  of  here,"  and  almost  threw  me 
up  the  "  golden  stairs  "  and  back  into  the  street. 

Here  I  found  a  number  of  boys  and  men  who, 
like  myself,  lingered  about  ticketless  and  shelter- 
less. I  said  to  one  of  them,  "  What  are  we  going 
to  do  for  a  bed?"  He  replied,  "I'll  tell  you; 
you  can  get  in  if  you  will  drop  down  that  man- 
hole, and  once  in  you'll  be  mixed  up  with  the  crowd 
and  won't  be  noticed.  I  let  three  fellows  in  that 
way  the  other  night.  It's  mighty  heavy  but  I'll 
hold  it  up  till  you  drop  down  if  you  want  to  try 
it.  But,  say,  I  want  to  tell  you  if  you  ain't  got 
nothing  on  you,  and  you  don't  want  nothing  on  you, 
you'd  better  try  the  lumber  yard.  It  isn't  so  warm 
as  down  there,  but  it's  a  great  deal  cleaner. 
That's  where  I'm  going." 

I  was  determined,  however,  to  see  this  one  free 


132  "BROKE" 

lodging  house  of  San  Francisco,  but  I  hesitated 
for  just  a  moment.  I  wasn't  quite  sure  where  I 
might  land,  and  if  I  was  discovered  neither  was  I 
quite  sure  that  I  might  not  be  murdered.  But  my 
fear  quickly  passed  and  I  said,  "  All  right,  lift  her 
up,"  and  down  I  went.  I  did  not  have  far  to  drop, 
and  found  myself  in  that  portion  of  the  "  heavenly 
flop  "  under  the  negro  saloon  where  hell  overhead 
was  already  making  the  night  hideous.  Between 
the  cracks  in  the  old  board  floor  I  could  see  the 
light  of  the  saloon  shining  through.  I  made  no 
attempt  at  trying  to  get  a  bed.  All  I  wanted  was 
to  make  a  few  notes  and  get  out. 

The  room  where  I  found  myself  was  filled  with 
double  board  bunks,  the  upper  bunks  coming  so  near 
the  ceiling,  or  floor  of  the  saloon  above,  that  a  man 
could  just  crawl  into  them.  Some  of  these  poor 
objects  were  making  an  attempt  to  get  a  bath  from 
a  shower  in  a  corner,  but  even  if  they  succeeded  in 
getting  this  excuse  for  a  bath,  they  were  obliged  to 
crawl  back  into  their  filthy  clothes  or  onto  the  still 
more  filthy  bunks.  Some  men,  under  the  sidewalk, 
I  saw  spread  out  old  newspapers  on  the  boards, 
and  lie  down  unwashed  and  unfed  in  their 
wretchedness. 

Slipping  out  as  quickly  as  possible,  unnoticed,  I 
reached  the  street.  The  night  air  and  open  street 
was  as  a  pleasant  dream  which  follows  the  waking 
hours  of  one  who  suffers. 


SAN   FRANCISCO  133 

At  the  Salvation  Army  the  attendant  told  me  he 
was  not  authorized  to  give  anything  away,  and  all 
that  was  left  me  was  the  old  city  prison. 

Threading  up  an  alley,  I  found  myself  at  the  Old 
Bastile  of  San  Francisco.  The  keeper  at  the  door 
said  he  would  allow  me  to  lie  down  in  the  cell 
house,  but  first  he  must  be  assured  I  had  neither 
knife,  gun,  or  razor  upon  me.  Satisfied  I  was  not 
an  escaped  lunatic,  or  a  desperado  with  an  arsenal 
concealed  about  me,  I  was  turned  over  to  the  turn- 
key, who  led  me  to  the  chamber  of  horrors,  a  long 
room  about  sixty  by  thirty  feet.  In  the  center 
was  a  row  of  large  cells,  or  "  drunk  tanks,"  in 
which  were  being  thrown  the  unfortunates  of  both 
sexes  in  all  degrees  of  insanity,  from  the  raving  de- 
lirium tremens  to  the  semi-idiots,  the  fighting 
drunks,  the  laughing  drunks,  the  sick  drunks  and 
the  sleeping  drunks.  The  jailer  pointing  to  a  pile 
of  blankets,  said,  "  Take  one  of  those  and  find  a 
place  to  spread  it  down."  The  lodgers  were 
allowed  to  lie  down  on  the  stone  floor  in  the  narrow 
passage  which  surrounded  this  row  of  cells.  The 
passage  was  so  narrow  that  they  had  to  lie  in  single 
file,  which  left  just  space  enough  to  walk  between 
them  and  the  cells.  I  seized  a  blanket;  there 
seemed  to  be  just  one  space  left. 

If  you  have  ever  been  in  an  insane  asylum,  or 
in  a  cell  house  of  your  States  prison,  where  some 
unusual  sound  startles  and  terrifies  the  inmates, 


134  "BROKE" 

you  can  frame  some  idea  of  what  it  means  to  sleep 
around  the  "  drunk  tanks "  in  the  city  prison. 
Women  with  disarranged  clothing,  and  disheveled 
hair,  were  pleading  and  babbling,  and  begging  to 
be  released,  declaring  they  could  not  breathe,  and 
in  piercing  tones  crying  that  they  were  suffocating. 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  these  women  this  night 
were  more  or  less  refined  in  voice  and  language, 
and  the  most  vile  and  vulgar  epithets  hurled  at 
them  by  the  men  derelicts  in  the  adjoining  cells 
met  with  no  response.  Men  raved  and  fought,  and 
cursed  and  groaned.  The  jailer  was  kept  busy 
separating  them.  As  he  was  forcing  an  aggressive 
prisoner  from  one  cell  to  another,  the  toe  of  the 
unfortunate  caught  me  in  the  side,  which  left  me 
a  sore  and  stinging  remembrance  of  that  awful 
night  for  several  days. 

When  the  call  came  to  the  lodgers  to  get  out,  it 
was  like  a  voice  from  the  immediate  presence  of 
God.  We  were  each  given  a  piece  of  bread  and  a 
cup  of  stuff  called  coffee.  The  jailer,  George  Mc- 
Laughlin,  was  a  man  of  cast-iron  decision  and 
gruffness,  yet  under  the  most  trying  circumstances 
his  actions  toward  these  troublesome  unfortunates 
were  exceedingly  kind.  As  we  drifted  out  of  the 
Old  Bastile,  he  gave  us  each  a  word  of  good  luck 
and  a  cheerful  farewell.  It  was  a  jail,  yes,  and 
no  man  can  ever  sleep  in  a  jail  and  keep  his  self- 
respect,  but  we  were  welcome  and  not  cast  out. 


SAN  FRANCISCO  135 

San  Francisco  is  at  work.  She  has  sent  her  del- 
egation to  New  York  City  to  inspect  its  beautiful 
and  wonderful  Municipal  Lodging  House.  The 
delegates  returned  completely  won  over  to  the  idea. 
San  Francisco  will  soon  have  its  Emergency  Mu- 
nicipal Home. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

EXPERIENCES  IN  Los  ANGELES 

"  Ye  are  not  of  the  night  nor  the  darkness." — I  THESSALOXIANS 
5:5. 

ON  one  of  Los  Angeles'  perfect  winter  Sab- 
bath mornings,  I  was  idly  strolling 
down  the  street,  when  a  breezy,  pleasant 
faced  woman  appeared,  looked  at  me  closely  and 
then  asked  if  I  was  homeless.  The  genial  little  lady 
nrged  me  with  a  great  deal  of  force  to  come  to  the 
institution  in  which  she  was  interested,  and  where, 
she  assured  me,  I  would  be  well  fed  and  sheltered 
as  long  as  I  chose  to  stay.  So  pleasant  was  the 
description  of  her  home,  her  welcome  so  genuine, 
I  rejoiced  in  the  thought  that  here  in  hospitable 
Los  Angeles  was  provided  an  emergency  home 
for  those  with  whom  untoward  circumstances  had 
not  dealt  kindly. 

I  was  interested  at  once  in  the  invitation  so 
kindly  extended  to  me,  and  I  asked  the  good 
woman  how  I  would  get  to  the  "  home."  She  began 
by  telling  me  which  street-car  to  take.  I  said, 
"  Just  give  me  the  street  and  number  and  I  will 

136 


EXPERIENCES  IN  LOS  ANGELES      137 

walk."  She  answered,  "  I  can  not  do  that  very 
well."  She  explained  to  me  that  she  would  give 
me  carfare  but  was  not  allowed  to  do  so.  There 
was  another  woman  a  little  further  down  the  street 
who  could  and  would  give  me  the  required  nickel. 
Walking  on  down  the  street,  I  was  told  by  a  man 
standing  on  the  sidewalk  that  there  had  been  sev- 
eral women  on  the  corner  urging  men  to  come  out 
to  a  free  home,  and  giving  out  carfare,  but  they 
would  not  return  until  the  next  Sunday  morning. 

Following  the  woman's  directions,  I  took  a  car. 
After  riding  what  I  supposed  to  be  about  two 
miles,  I  asked  the  conductor  if  we  were  nearly 
there ;  he  laughingly  replied,  "  We  haven't  started 
yet."  And  then  I  found  that  this  "  home "  was 
nearly  four  miles  from  the  place  where  laborers 
congregated  in  the  heart  of  the  city.  A  four-mile 
walk  —  a  pleasant  prospect  for  a  hunger- weakened 
man,  perhaps  ill  as  well ! 

On  finally  reaching  the  place,  I  found  it  an  in- 
stitution of  some  kind  of  religious  enthusiasts. 
There  were  many  there.  It  was  one  of  their  feast 
days,  and  the  end  of  the  dinner  was  near  at  hand. 
I  was  given  a  cordial  welcome,  and  handed  a  plate 
of  potatoes  and  beans.  Tea,  coffee,  and  meat  I 
learned  they  regarded  as  sinful,  smacking  too 
much  of  the  flesh. 

This  plate  of  potatoes  and  beans,  the  leader  de- 
clared, was  sanctified  food.  On  this  feast  day 
there  had  been  a  shower  of  pies  and  cakes,  but  the 


138  "BEOKE" 

sanctified  pie  had  run  out.  We  were  invited  to 
remain  to  a  four-hour  feast  of  religious  worship, 
which  would  be  followed  by  another  feast  of  edi- 
bles. As  this  latter  attraction  was  referred  to 
many  times,  we  had  reason  to  believe  a  regular 
Belshazzar  was  in  store  for  us.  Out  in  a  sort  of 
shed,  after  four  long  hours  of  religious  praise,  in 
a  din  of  sound  of  voice  and  song,  beneath  swing- 
ing collections  of  crutches  and  pipes  and  bottles, 
we  were  called  to  the  promised  supper.  Back  into 
the  banquet  hall?  Oh,  no!  But  we  carried  the 
backless  benches  in  from  the  shed,  and  placed  them 
in  a  row  along  by  the  back  or  kitchen  door  of  the 
house.  I  noticed  there  were  only  about  half 
seats  enough  for  the  guests,  so  that  one  half  stood 
while  they  waited,  and  it  was  nearly  an  hour  from 
the  time  we  began  to  gather  for  the  much  heralded 
"  full  meal "  before  we  were  served. 

The  weather  had  changed.  At  the  going  down 
of  the  sun,  in  southern  semi-tropical  climes  in  mid- 
winter, there  is  a  penetrating  chill  in  the  air. 
Cold  mist  and  rain  is  of  frequent  occurence.  With 
the  fast  falling  night  had  come  a  chilling  fog  cloud. 
It  was  an  appalling,  an  appealing,  a  heart-rending, 
cruel  sight,  this  company  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
men.  There  were  no  women  among  them. 

As  these  destitute  men  stood  there,  half-clothed, 
enveloped  in  the  vapor  of  the  coming  night,  I  read, 
on  almost  every  face,  despair  and  hopeless  grief. 
I  judged  that  a  great  many  of  them  were  tuber- 


EXPERIENCES   IN   LOS  ANGELES      139 

cular,  or  the  thin  emaciated  faces  may  have  been 
evidences  of  exposure  and  want.  I,  too,  was  suf- 
fering with  the  cold,  and  I  turned  to  a  strong, 
healthy  young  fellow  near  me  and  said  to  him, 
"  That  cup  of  hot  coffee  will  receive  a  hearty  wel- 
come." Just  then  an  attendant  came  out  of  the 
kitchen  with  a  very  large  pitcher  and  filled  it  with 
cold  water  from  the  hydrant.  My  interlocutor 
turned  and  laughingly  remarked,  "  Jack,  there  is 
your  hot  coffee ! "  Then  the  chief  leader  of  this 
spiritual  beneficence  appeared,  rubbing  his  hands 
together,  and  said  to  a  visiting  brother  as  he 
glanced  down  the  line,  "  Isn't  this  glorious?  " 

After  more  prayer,  they  came  to  us  bringing 
what  they  called  sandwiches,  one  for  each  man. 
These  "  sandwiches  "  were  two  very  thin  slices  of 
bread,  between  which  they  had  put  a  touch  of  some 
sour  sort  of  sauce,  and  with  each  one  was  given  a 
cup  of  cold  water.  A  gaunt,  sunken-eyed  man, 
with  white  trembling  hands,  said  to  me,  "  I 
am  afraid  there  won't  be  enough  to  go  around  and 
we  won't  get  any."  But  we  got  ours,  and  he  swal- 
lowed it  almost  in  a  mouthful.  I  held  mine  wait- 
ing for  an  excuse  to  give  it  to  him,  and  soon  he 
asked  me,  "  Aren't  you  going  to  eat  yours?  "  I 
replied,  "  No,  I  do  not  like  the  sauce  between  the 
bread.  "  I  shall  never  forget  how  eagerly  the  thin 
hand  grasped  the  slice,  as  he  exclaimed,  "  I  would 
give  a  fortune,  if  I  had  it,  for  a  cup  of  hot  coffee ! " 
And  then  some  hungry  wretch  spoke  up,  saying, 


140  "BROKE" 

"  If  Christ  was  on  earth  today,  I  think  he  would 
have  changed  that  cup  of  cold  water,  given  in 
his  name,  to  hot  coffee."  I  asked  this  starving 
man  if  he  could  not  find  work,  and  if  he  had 
no  trade.  "  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  am  a  lather, 
but  since  they  use  the  steel  laths  it  is  hard 
for  us  to  get  the  work  we  formerly  did.  Besides," 
he  continued,  "  I  am  not  young  any  longer  nor 
strong  enough  to  keep  steadily  at  work  as  I  once 
could,  even  though  I  now  had  the  work  to  do.  I 
came  down  here  believing  I  could  get  work,  easy 
work,  out-doors  in  the  fruit  and  orange  groves, 
which  would  be  beneficial  to  my  health,  but  the 
fruit  trust  hire  all  Japs  because  they  can  get  them 
cheaper,  and,  even  though  I  have  offered  to 
work  as  cheaply  as  they  do,  they  wrill  not  hire 
me." 

The  day  was  done  and  this  little  drift  of  the 
flotsam  and  jetsam  of  Los  Angeles  floated  back  to 
the  city  to  buffet  with  chance  and  luck  for  a  place 
to  sleep. 

When  I  first  arrived  at  the  "  institution,"  I 
asked  for  the  privilege  of  staying  until  I  could 
help  myself.  The  attendant  told  me  he  would  see 
me  after  the  service.  As  nothing  was  said  to  me 
again  nor  any  of  us  urged  or  asked  to  remain,  and 
being  obliged  to  find  something  to  eat,  I  left.  As 
we  went  away,  each  man  was  offered  a  nickel  for 
carfare,  and  I  said  to  the  helper  who  doled  out  the 
nickels,  "  Will  you  give  me  another  to  come  back 


EXPEDIENCES   IN   LOS  ANGELES,    141 

on?  I  must  go  to  the  city  to  look  for  work."  But 
I  found  he  couldn't  think  of  such  a  thing. 

No  doubt,  on  the  minds  of  the  gullible  rich  and 
charitably  inclined  who  contribute  to  such  insti- 
tutions, the  report  of  this  feast  day  and  of  the  great 
number  "  fed  "  must  have  made  a  great  impression. 
These  people  were  teaching  Christ,  too,  as  they 
understood  or  pretended  to  understand  Him.  On 
this  day,  if  they  had  found  one  man  of  character 
strong  enough  to  accept  and  follow  the  beautiful 
Christ  Life,  was  it  not  worth  while?  Prom  their 
standpoint,  yes,  but  they  overlooked  utterly  the 
sin  of  continuing  the  pauperization  of  those  two 
hundred  and  fifty  men,  by  their  makeshift  charity. 
During  their  four  hours  of  praise  and  prayer  and 
"  testimony,"  not  one  single  word  was  said  about 
the  causes  that  compelled  those  men  to  be  there. 
Nor  a  single  remedy  was  mentioned  to  change 
conditions,  nor  a  word  uttered  against  the  methods 
used  by  religious  societies,  missions,  single  and 
associated  charities,  prison  associations,  societies 
for  the  prevention  of  crime  and  mendicancy,  in 
their  dealings  with  mendicancy. 

It  was  after  dark  when  I  again  reached  the  city. 
The  rain  had  ceased,  and  the  myriads  of  scintil- 
lating lights  filled  the  city  with  a  glow  of  splendor. 
I  began  my  testing  of  the  generosity  of  the  city  of 
Los  Angeles  toward  its  destitute  homeless.  As  in 
other  cities,  I  met  with  rebuffs  at  all  of  those  in- 
stitutions and  religious  bodies  ostensibly  existing 


142  "BROKE" 

for  the  sole  purpose  of  helping  the  homeless.  I 
tried  all  that  I  had  heard  of  or  that  the  police 
knew  anything  about.  Finally,  as  I  had  been  in 
other  cities,  I  was  driven  to  the  Municipal  build- 
ing provided  for  law-breakers  and  criminals.  As  I 
sat  there  waiting  for  the  jailer  to  lock  me  in,  I 
thought  of  the  frightful  night  spent  in  the  bull- 
pens  of  other  places,  —  of  the  nerve-racking  night 
when  I  came  so  near  swooning  in  the  city  prison 
of  Pittsburg,  and  last  but  not  least,  of  that  mad- 
house, the  Old  Bastile  of  San  Francisco.  As  I 
heard  the  clang  of  iron  doors,  and  in  the  distance 
the  cursing  of  men  and  the  cry  of  lost  women,  I 
said  to  myself,  "  I  don't  think  it  necessary  for  me 
to  go  through  this  terrible  trial  to  bring  before  the 
good  people  of  Los  Angeles  the  need  of  a  Municipal 
Emergency  Home,"  and  I  quietly  crept  away. 

On  the  following  Sunday,  I  addressed  the  Y.  M. 
C.  A.,  and  I  told  them  of  my  experiences  in  Los 
Angeles.  I  spoke  of  going  first  to  one  very  prom- 
inent institution  and  of  being  denied  any  of  its 
privileges  for  less  than  thirty  cents,  in  real  money. 
I  did  not  give  the  name  of  the  establishment  and 
when  I  had  finished,  one  of  the  officers  of  this  body 
got  up  and  said,  "  If  Mr.  Brown  had  come  here 
he  would  have  been  taken  care  of."  I  replied, 
"  This  was  the  first  place  I  came  to."  After  they 
had  caught  their  breath,  he  haltingly  said,  "  But 
Mr.  Brown,  you  did  not  see  the  right  man." 

I  found  in  Los  Angeles,  as  in  every  other  city 


EXPERIENCES  IN   LOS  ANGELES      143 

that  I  visited,  that  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  a  rich  men's  club.  I  found  men 
worth  a  great  many  thousands  of  dollars  rooming 
there.  They  paid  from  thirty  to  fifty  dollars  a 
month  for  their  rooms.  And  I  found  boys  on  small 
salaries  also  living  there  but  living  on  one  and  two 
meals  a  day,  in  order  to  be  able  to  pay  their  paltry 
room  rent. 


CHAPTER  XV 
IN  PORTLAND 

"  To  live  honestly  by  one's  own  toil,  what  a  favor  of  Heaven  I " 
— HUGO. 

' '  •    "V  ELL  me,  vhere  I  find  me  a  lawyer? " 

'j        •  In  broken  accents,  these  words  came 

M.     M  to   me   from   a   German   laborer   who 

stepped  up  to  me  out  of  five  hundred  unemployed 

men  who  thronged  Second  Street  in  the  vicinity  of 

the  labor  bureaus. 

"  I  am  a  lawyer,"  I  responded ;  "  what  is  the 
trouble?" 

With  an  amused  expression,  eyeing  closely  my 
blue  jeans,  he  said,  "  You  vas  not  a  lawyer." 

"  No,"  I  answered,  "  I  am  not  a  lawyer,  but  tell 
me  your  name,  and  what  is  your  trouble,  and  per- 
haps I  can  find  you  one." 

"  My  name  is  Steve  Goebel.  Veil,  I  dell  you,  I 
go  there,"  pointing  to  the  employment  office  near 
at  hand,  "  seven  days  ago,  und  I  pay  two  tollars 
for  a  job  at  lumber  camp  Rainier,  fifty,  maybe 
seventy,  mile  avay.  I  pay  my  fare  out  there.  I 
vork  six  days  und  six  hours  for  vun  seventy-five  a 

144 


IN   PORTLAND  145 

day,  ten  hour  a  day,  den  dey  dell  me  dey  no  vant 
me  no  more.  I  work  so  hard  in  rain  und  vet,  und 
I  vear  mein  clothes  out,  und  I  pay  five  tollars  a 
veek  board.  Vhen  dey  dell  me  dey  no  vant  me  no 
more  dey  offer  me  dhree  tollars  for  my  six  days 
und  six  hours'  work.  I  owe  the  commis,  vhat  you 
call  it,  fifteen  cents  for  leedle  tobac.  Den  dey  take 
from  me  vun  tollar  hospital  fee  und  dhree  tollar 
poll  tax,  they  say,  or  road  tax,  und  offer  me  dhree 
tollar.  I  not  take  dot  dhree  tollar, —  somevun  dey 
rob  me.  I  hafe  leedle  money.  I  come  back  part 
vay  on  boat,  as  far  as  my  leedle  money  bring  me, 
den  I  valk  back  here.  I  dell  the  office  how  I  get 
treated  und  dey  says  nefer  mind,  ve  get  you  anoder 
job,  but  I  say  I  valk  all  night,  I  am  hungry,  den 
dey  give  me  den  cents  for  breakfast." 

I  took  this  man  to  the  office  of  the  City  Attorney 
and  left  him  there  to  tell  his  story.  I  afterwards 
repeated  the  story  to  one  of  the  leading  news- 
paper writers  of  the  city.  He  looked  at  me  very 
earnestly,  and  said,  "  Do  you  think  there  will  be 
a  thing  done  about  it?  "  I  looked  at  him  without 
reply,  and  he  continued,  "  There  won't  be  a  thing 
done.  There  is  no  law  for  the  poor  man  here." 

The  man  had  been  robbed  in  as  low  and  cowardly 
a  manner  as  only  a  most  depraved  degenerate  could 
be  guilty  of.  Portland  had  helped  to  make  that 
man  destitute,  and  now  he  is  forced  to  beg,  steal  or 
starve,  until  he  finds  another  job,  or  perhaps, 
through  desperation  takes  his  life.  Similar  ex- 


146  "BROKE" 

periences  in  Portland  have  forced  a  great  many  to 
do  that  very  thing.  Several  men  have  been  found 
dead  in  a  pretty  green  square  in  the  heart  of  Port- 
land's breathing  spot,  called  the  Plaza,  and  post- 
mortem examinations  have  revealed  nothing  in 
their  stomachs.  And  these  tragedies  have  taken 
place  almost  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  As- 
sociated Charities. 

A  great  pile  of  water  and  pitch-soaked  blocks  of 
kindling  wood  was  piled  in  front  of  No.  10  North 
Second  Street,  a  Jap  restaurant.  Some  of  the 
blocks  were  so  heavy  it  was  with  difficulty  they 
could  be  carried  even  singly.  The  wrood  belonged 
to  the  Japs.  An  old  man,  an  American,  some 
sixty  odd  years  of  age,  was  carrying  it  in.  I  asked 
him  if  he  did  not  want  a  helper.  He  said,  "  I 
would  like  a  helper  but  there  is  so  little  in  it  and 
there  is  not  enough  for  two.  I  am  carrying  this 
all  in  for  thirty  cents  and  it  will  take  me,  I  think, 
three  hours.  " 

This  old  man  had  a  good,  kind  face,  and  his 
clothes,  though  worn,  were  clean.  He  continued, 
"  I  have  been  playing  in  a  little  hard  luck  of  late 
and  must  get  all  out  of  my  work  possible."  I  then 
asked  him  if  he  had  breakfasted.  He  had  not.  I 
said,  "  I  have  a  little  money,  come  and  have  some 
breakfast  and  carry  in  the  wood  afterward."  He 
said,  "  No,  I  won't  take  your  money,  I  will  soon 
be  through  here  and  get  my  pay. 

I  was  seated  in  Tragedy  Square   (the  Plaza), 


IN  PORTLAND  147 

near  a  neat,  well-dressed  young  man,  and  while  sit- 
ting there  two  young  girls  about  sixteen  or  seven- 
teen years  of  age  came  out  of  a  door  across  the 
street,  and  passed  through  the  Square.  The  young 
man  remarked: 

"Do  you  see  those  two  young  women?  They 
have  just  come  out  of  the  Woman's  Department 
of  the  Free  Labor  Office.  You  can  tell  from  their 
appearance  they  are  honest  girls,  but  they  would 
sell  all  that  is  dear  to  them,  even  their  purity,  for 
something  to  eat  and  a  place  to  sleep.  I  may  be 
wrong  but  from  their  appearance  I  feel  it  is  true." 

Stunned  as  by  a  blow,  at  the  words  from  the  lips 
of  this  stranger,  with  noticeable  feeling  I  said, 
"  That  can't  be  possible.  In  this  city  of  wealth, 
whose  citizens  boast  of  their  refinement,  their  rea- 
sonableness, and  their  kindliness !  " 

"  I  know  whereof  I  speak,"  he  answered,  "  for  I 
have  a  girl  friend  whom  I  have  been  helping  for. 
over  a  year.  Just  recently  she  confessed  to  me 
why  she  forgot  the  teachings  of  her  childhood  and 
mother,  why  she  forgot  her  dream  of  being  honor- 
ably married  and  becoming  all  that  her  mother  was. 
She  said,  it  was  because  she  was  hungry  and  had  no 
place  to  sleep.  She  could  not  ask  for  charity  or 
beg.  *  I  didn't  know  where  or  how  to  beg,'  she  said, 
'  but  then  I  met  you  and  you  were  kind  to  me.'  I 
did  not  know  this  when  I  met  that  girl.  I  thought 
she  was  what  she  was  from  choice  and  not  from 
necessity." 


148  "BROKE" 

As  he  got  up  to  leave  he  said,  "  I  am  going  to 
marry  her  and  she  shall  be  all  that  God  intended  her 
to  be.  I  am  going  to  help  her,  but  there  are  many, 
very  many  girls  who  come  to  Portland,  and  who, 
through  lack  of  life's  necessities,  are  forced  to 
forget." 

And  this  instance  could  be  multiplied  a  thousand 
times,  and  in  a  thousand  ways,  in  a  thousand  cities. 

In  the  afternoon^  I  began  to  look  for  work.  I 
found  that  no  privileges  existed  for  labor ;  that  the 
destitute  working  man,  the  man  who  was  "  broke," 
was  forced  to  seek  shelter  where  the  homeless  dog 
and  rat  seeks  shelter.  Men  here,  as  in  other  cities, 
were  forced  to  the  fermenting  refuse  thrown  from 
stables  because  it  held  warmth!  Often  men  slept 
out  in  the  open  air  behind  billboards  and  in  a 
hundred  other  deplorable  places,  where  they  could 
get  a  little  rest  unless  discovered  by  the  police  and 
thrown  into  jail. 

In  my  search  for  work,  I  went  to  the  offices  of  the 
Portland  Light,  Power  and  Electric  Railway  Com- 
pany. I  asked  the  clerk  what  show  there  was  to  get 
work  as  motorman  or  conductor.  He  answered, 
"  pretty  slim."  Nevertheless,  he  asked  how  old 
I  was.  When  I  told  him,  he  said  there  was  no  work 
for  me,  that  there  was  a  brotherhood  of  the  rail- 
way employees  which  was  an  adjunct  to  the  com- 
pany and  one  of  its  rules  was  not  to  hire  a  man  over 
forty.  I  said,  "  It  is  true,  I  am  fifty,  but  I  am  just 
as  strong  and  well,  able-bodied  and  competent  as  I 


IN  PORTLAND  149 

was  at  twenty-five."  But  that  made  no  difference. 
I  then  asked,  "  If  I  were  of  an  eligible  age  and  you 
should  give  me  work,  what  do  you  pay?  "  He  said, 
"  You  are  expected  to  work  the  first  ten  days  for 
nothing.  Then  you  receive  twenty-four  cents  an 
hour  for  five  years,  then  thirty  cents  as  long  as  you 
live  and  work."  I  said,  "  I  am  broke,  and  even 
though  I  were  of  an  age  to  be  chosen,  I  would  be 
giving  my  time  to  you  during  those  ten  days,  and  a 
man  will  starve  to  death  in  nine." 

A  man  who  looks  for  work  does  not  lose  his 
worthiness,  but  the  man  who  is  forced  to  ask  alms, 
to  ask  something  for  nothing,  does. 

I  then  took  the  part  of  a  cringing,  disgraced, 
dependent  with  nothing  to  lose  and  nothing  to  gain, 
except  to  try  and  keep  God's  gift,  the  spark  of  life, 
until  in  my  own  opinion,  at  least,  I  could  place  my- 
self in  a  position  to  be  honorable.  I  knew  that  I 
would  be  looked  upon  suspiciously  by  the  police, 
possibly  thrown  into  jail;  that  in  all  of  the  places 
where  I  would  ask  for  aid,  they  would  look  upon 
me  as  mean,  base,  low, —  mental  defective  perhaps, 
or  a  victim  of  some  awful  habit.  My  poverty 
would  be,  of  course,  all  my  fault,  as  "  there  is  no 
need  of  any  one's  being  poor." 

I  first  looked  for  the  Associated  Charities.  I 
scanned  the  papers  closely,  not  knowing  but  that 
they  might  advertise  to  give  a  destitute  man  or 
woman,  boy  or  girl,  a  lift.  Finding  no  notice,  I 
found  the  place  at  last,  after  a  good  deal  of  diffi- 


150  "BROKE" 

culty.  Reaching  there  at  about  five  minutes  after 
five,  I  saw  a  sign  on  the  door  which  told  me  they 
kept  the  usual  "  banking  "  hours,  9  A.  M.  to  5  P.  M. 
I  wondered  whether,  possibly,  some  one  might 
not  need  a  little  help  between  5  P.  M.  and  9 
A.  M. 

The  Y.  M.  C.  A.  here,  also,  had  noting  to  give  an 
indigent  man,  any  more  than  in  the  other  cities 
where  I  had  been. 

Strolling  down  Burnside  Street  I  came  to  an 
establishment  with  a  sign,  "  People's  Institute," 
over  the  door.  I  entered  and  asked  for  help. 
They  had  nothing  to  give  away  but  religion.  Yes, 
they  had  a  reading-room,  where  a  number  of  men 
sat  reading  in  profound  silence.  Here  I  saw  several 
other  signs :  "  No  Smoking,"  "  Do  your  reading  here, 
your  talking  on  the  outside,  but  not  at  the  door." 

I  inquired  where  a  man  was  supposed  to  talk,  and 
was  told  that  it  was  "  in  the  park  or  a  block  down 
the  street." 

I  wandered  down  to  the  river.  Glancing  across 
to  the  other  side  I  saw  a  huge  sign,  which  read: 
"  Salvation  Army.  Industrial  Home."  I  crossed 
the  river  and  on  reaching  this  work -house  of  faith 
and  worship  I  saw  that  the  lower  floors  were  locked 
and  dark.  Climbing  a  stairway  leading  to  the 
second  story,  I  found  myself  in  a  rambling  barrack. 
Hearing  a  noise  in  one  of  the  rooms  I  made  my  way 
there  and  found  a  man  preparing  supper.  I  told 
him  of  my  hard  luck,  and  that  I  was  willing  to  work 


IN  PORTLAND  151 

for  it  if  I  could  get  a  lodging  for  the  night  and  sup- 
per and  breakfast.  He  went  right  on  pealing  his 
onions  and  potatoes,  telling  me  decidedly  that  the 
meals  were  for  the  officers  of  the  Army  and  he  was 
not  allowed  to  give  anything  away.  The  Industrial 
part  of  the  "  Salvation  Army  Industrial  Home " 
seemed  to  have  ceased  to  be  at  the  finishing  of  that 
great  sign.  The  Captain  told  me  later,  however, 
that  if  I  had  asked  the  right  man  I  would  have  been 
helped,  but  that  I  had  asked  the  cook. 

For  several  hours  I  drifted  around.  In  some  of 
the  "  beer  depots,"  as  they  call  the  saloons  there,  I 
found  as  many  as  two  and  three  hundred  men  at 
one  time.  A  policeman,  whom  I  saw  fulfilling  his 
duty  by  driving  a  boy  whom  he  suspected  of  being 
under  age,  from  one  of  these  resorts,  directed  me  to 
two  missions, — The  Holy  Rollers  and  the  Portland 
Commons.  Should  I  be  denied  shelter  there,  he  told 
me  to  go  to  the  jail,  but  added  that  I  should  not  go 
there  unless  I  was  obliged  to. 

The  Commons  had  a  name  which  indicated  that 
it  was  meant  to  serve  all.  I  climbed  the  stairs  to 
an  office.  The  only  man  available  about  the  place 
told  me  if  I  had  been  there  and  attended  the  service 
they  might  have  done  something  for  me.  When  I 
asked  him  if  I  could  receive  supper,  bath,  bed  and 
breakfast  by  doing  some  service  in  return,  he  stared 
at  me  and  asked  me  what  kind  of  a  place  I  thought 
they  were  running ! 

This  is  a  simple  statement  of  what  a  homeless 


152  "BROKE" 

man  meets  in  Portland.  If  I  had  seen  Staff  Cap- 
tain Bradley  of  the  Salvation  Army  he  would  prob- 
ably have  given  me  a  bed ;  or,  had  I  come  in  contact 
with  Mr.  W.  G.  MacLaren  of  the  Portland  Com- 
mons, I  would  have  been  taken  care  of.  I  did  not 
meet  Captain  Bradley  after  my  investigation,  but  I 
did  meet  W.  G.  MacLaren,  and  found  him  a  sincere 
Christian  gentleman,  doing  a  great  deal  to  help 
those  in  need.  I  discovered,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
experience,  a  life-line  running  from  the  city  jail  to 
a  mission,  and  the  mission  was  Portland  Commons. 
The  night  captain  of  the  jail,  Captain  Slover,  who 
ought  to  be  chief  of  police  of  that  city,  was  at  one 
end  of  the  line  and  W.  G.  MacLaren  at  the  other. 

Many  discouraged,  unfortunate  workers  have, 
through  the  efforts  of  these  two  men,  become 
honored  citizens.  Both  Captain  Slover  and  Mr. 
MacLaren  know  that  private  and  individual  effort 
is  a  failure ;  that  it  is  as  one  trying  to  dip  the  ocean 
dry ;  that  under  our  national,  municipal,  social  and 
political  systems,  their  work  is  useless.  These  men 
believe  in  municipal  ownership  as  far  as  taking  care 
of  those  in  need  is  concerned.  They  are  strong 
advocates  of  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home. 

In  Portland  I  found  a  boy  who  had  been  dragged 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  from  a  delivery  wagon 
where  he  was  trying  to  sleep,  and  put  in  jail.  Cap- 
tain Slover  sent  him  to  the  mission.  On  the  street 
I  saw  another  boy  whom  I  had  met  in  San  Francisco 
a  month  before  and  who  now  was  on  his  way  to 


IN  PORTLAND  153 

Tacoma,  to  which  place  his  brother  had  written  him 
to  come,  as  he  had  a  steady  job  for  him  with  good 
pay.  He  had  been  pulled  out  of  a  freight  car  at 
three  o'clock  that  morning  and  taken  to  jail.  He 
told  his  story  and  they  believed  him.  Afterward, 
while  visiting  that  jail  (the  only  Portland  Munici- 
pal Lodging  House)  I  found  it  such  a  filthy,  disease- 
and  crime-breeding  institution  that  I  wondered  that 
the  police  themselves  did  not  succumb.  I  found 
Russians  thrown  in  there  who  were  never  in  jail 
until  they  came  to  America.  I  saw  the  "  drunk 
tanks  "  into  which  unfortunates  were  crowded  and 
where,  I  was  told,  they  were  often  found  dead  from 
suffocation. 

On  Sunday  morning  I  attended  the  First  Congre- 
gational Church.  It  was  not  the  regular  service 
but  a  sort  of  joint  meeting  with  the  Foreign  Mission- 
ary Commission.  The  minister  preached  thirty 
minutes  about  how  much  he  pitied  the  poor  little 
dwarfed  soul.  I  heard  not  a  single  word  about  try- 
ing to  save  the  soul  (and  the  body)  of  the  hundreds 
of  shelterless  and  hungry  men  in  the  city  of  Port- 
land who  were  searching  for  the  possibility  of  carv- 
ing out  an  existence  for  themselves  and  those 
dependent  upon  them.  In  its  neglect  to  care  for 
these,  the  church  seemed  an  accessory  to  death 
rather  than  to  the  uplift  of  unfortunate  men  and 
women. 

During  my  entire  work,  I  have  been  honored  only 
once  by  being  called  upon  by  a  minister  and  asked 


154  "BROKE" 

to  speak  in  his  church.  "  The  Every  Day  Church," 
it  is  called,  situated  far  out,  almost  in  the  suburbs, 
on  the  east  side  of  Portland.  Its  pastor,  Rev. 
James  Diamond  Corby,  will  surely  be  heard  from  in 
the  near  future.  He  is  one  of  the  men  of  the  hour 
in  that  city.  The  Oregonian,  the  leading  newspaper 
of  Portland,  which  has  been  the  bell  sheep  of  Oregon 
for  a  great  many  years,  and  which  thinks  the  jails 
and  prisons  of  our  country  are  too  attractive  and 
should  be  made  less  so,  did  advocate  the  establish- 
ment of  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home  when  I  first 
went  to  Portland.  On  Easter  Sunday  morning, 
however,  they  crucified  my  idea  and  cartooned  the 
Municipal  Emergency  Home,  as  the  hairy  hand  of 
socialism  tearing  down  the  American  flag! 

Shortly  after  leaving  Portland  I  received  the  fol- 
lowing letter  which  speaks  for  itself.  Do  not  fail 
to  read  the  postscript. 

"  PORTL  Ore  Jan  24  1910. 

"  Mr.  Brown  I  read  a  artical  of  yours  in  the  Sun- 
day Oregonian  on  the  Down  and  outs,  belonging  to 
that  club  I  thought  it  might  interest  you  to  read  this 
and  therein  you  might  solve  the  question,  (what 
makes  a  tramp).  I  was  born  in  Creston,  Lanca- 
shire, Eng  on  the  27  of  Nov  1876  my  mother  &  father 
both  died  before  I  was  four  years  old,  and  I  was 
brought  up  with  a  family  who  we  boarded  with,  my 
new  mother  was  an  angel,  but  her  husband  was  a 
brute  to  me,  but  he  was  all  right  to  his  own  children, 
but  anytime  I  done  wrong  there  was  always  that  old 


IN  PORTLAND  155 

song  we  ought  to  have  sent  you  to  the  workhouse  in- 
stead of  trying  to  raise  you  to  be  a  man.  Notice 
what  chance  I  had.  At  10  years  old  I  was  put  to 
work  in  one  of  those  dreaded  cotton  mills,  a  half  a 
day  to  school  and  a  half  a  day  in  hell  to  work  till  I 
was  13  years  old  and  then  I  went  in  on  full  time.  3 
more  years  of  this  slaving  and  I  got  a  chance  to  come 
too  U.  S.  and  I  jumped  at  the  chance,  a  cousin  of 
mine  paying  my  fare  too  Woonsocket  where  some 
more  of  those  hell  holes  of  cotton  mills  are,  and  so 
again  in  too  the  cotton  mills  I  went,  but  a  little  over 
a  year  of  such  wrongs,  I  seeked  new  fields.  I  run 
away  and  went  to  boston,  mass,  where  one  night 
finding  myself  stranded  I  went  to  the  Municipal 
lodgins,  and  get  a  poor  bed  and  some  soup.  God 
only  knows  what  it  was  made  of  and  the  next  morn- 
ing I  was  out  and  hustling  and  having  a  natural  love 
for  a  horse,  around  the  sales  stables  I  went  and  I 
found  out  a  man  could  always  pick  up  a  piece  of 
change  runing  horses  up  and  down  the  streets  and 
taking  them  down  to  depot,  and  geting  warmed  up 
one  day  and  having  no  other  clothes  I  caught  cold 
wrhich  turned  into  pneumonia  and  I  went  to  the  city 
hospital,  the  treatment  there  was  fine  and  I  never 
will  forget  the  face  of  my  nurse,  when  I  came  out  I 
was  weak  and  scaled  about  90.  having  no  money 
that  night  I  had  to  go  to  the  Municipal  loding,  and 
I  told  the  officer  in  charge  about  coming  out  of  the 
hospital  that  morning  and  he  asked  me  to  show  him 
my  discharge  papers  and  I  handed  them  out  to  him 


156  "BROKE" 

and  he  looked  at  them  and  tore  them  up  right  in 

front  of  my  face,  and  said  you your 

working  the  hospitals  are  you,  and  then  he  kicked 
me  all  the  way  down  to  the  bath  room  and  said  he 
see  that  I  sawed  enough  of  wood  in  the  morning,  and 
he  was  there  and  after  working  a  while  I  fell  from 
weakness  and  the  brute  kicked  me  while  I  lay  help- 
less and  one  lodger  said  something  to  him  and  he 
was  promptly  hustled  inside  and  the  patrol  came 
down  and  took  him  away  but  I  noticed  he  did  not 
send  me  to  see  the  judge.  No,  instead  he  told  me 
to  get  out  and  never  show  my  face  again,  which  I 
never  have.  A  few  days  after  I  got  picked  up  on 
the  street  one  night  kind  of  late  and  took  a  front 
of  the  judge  the  next  morning,  the  first  time  I  was 
ever  in  a  court  room  and  charged  with  being  Idle 
and  Disorderly  and  was  sent  to  the  Eeformatory 
at  Concord  and  was  for  the  next  13  months  known 
as  9510.  having  no  friends  on  the  outside  and 
having  to  have  a  position  before  they  let  you  out 
some  skeeming  had  to  be  done,  but  anyway  I  got 
out  in  13  months  and  I  was  just  as  bad  off  as  I  went 
in  but  I  was  supplied  with  a  lot  of  the  knowledge 
of  crooks.  With  the  $5  they  gave  me  I  started  for 
New  York.  I  got  stranded  in  a  town  called  Port- 
chester  and  the  next  day  me  and  another  Down  and 
out  started  to  walk  to  white  plains  and  it  was 
there  I  begged  my  first  meal  and  it  cost  me  6  months 
in  jail.  White  plains  is  a  wealthy  town  and  that 
night  I  asked  to  sleep  in  the  police  station  and  in 


IN   PORTLAND  157 

the  morning  they  had  the  man  of  the  house  where 
I  asked  for  something  to  eat  in  the  office  and  they 
brought  me  out  to  have  him  identify  me  and  then 
the  judge  says  6  months,  never  give  me  a  chance  to 
say  a  word,  why,  because  it  was  Graft,  they 
shipped  me  through  2  other  counties  to  the  Kings 
County,  Pen.  and  them  having  a  Jail  of  their  own 
in  there  County.  I  then  thought  it  was  as  cheap 
to  steal  because  I  was  just  as  poor  when  I  come  out, 
and  so  I  started  in  on  a  life  of  crime.  I  committed 
a  few  small  acts  around  new  York  and  raised  a 
little  money  on  the  proceed,  and  so  I  started  back 
toward  Boston  but  I  fell  in  New  London,  and  had 
to  wait  3  months  for  trial  and  then  on  account  of 
my  youth  and  me  pleading  guilty  (which  they  could 
never  have  proved  if  I  have  been  an  Old  timer)  they 
let  me  off  with  a  year  in  Gail.  When  I  come  out 
they  gave  me  3  dollars  and  says  start  a  new  life, 
well  I  went  to  boston  again  and  I  got  work  around 
horses  at  the  race  track  and  in  the  fall  I  lost  my 
position  through  the  horses  being  sent  home  and  so 
again  I  started  to  ramble  this  time  towards  the 
west,  but  I  got  as  far  as  Buffalo  and  being  broke  one 
evning  I  made  a  raid  on  a  wholesale  grocey  and  got 
about  15$  and  a  wheel.  I  spent  the  15$  around  the 
Tenderloin  in  about  as  many  hours  and  then  I  tried 
to  sell  the  wheel  but  the  jew  would  only  give  me  2 
Dollars  and  I  wanted  5$  and  a  policeman  happened 
to  come  along  and  he  settled  the  proceedings  by 
taking  me  to  the  station,  and  after  waiting  about 


158  "BKOKE" 

2  months  for  a  trial  the  judge  says  9  months,  the 
reason  I  got  such  a  small  sentence  was  because  I 
turned  the  trick  off  right  in  front  of  station  No. 
1  in  Broad-day-light.  Why  as  I  got  through  the 
window  after  breaking  it  I  looked  out  into  the  street 
and  saw  a  half  Dozen  big  policemen  sitting  on  the 
steps  right  across  the  street  and  it  made  me  laugh 
every  once  in  a  while.  While  in  the  Buffalo  pen  I 
swore  I  would  quit  stealing  for  a  living  and  to  this 
day  I  kept  that  promise  which  is  about  8  years  ago 
because  it  aint  right  and  jails  made  me  a  thief.  I 
come  west  working  on  stock  ranches,  race  tracks, 
rail-road  camps,  logging  camps  and  all  kinds  of 
general  work.  But  there  is  one  question  I  would 
like  to  ask  you  before  I  end  this  letter.  Every  once 
in  a  while  I  find  myself  broke  and  out  of  a  job  and 
forced  to  beg  on  the  streets  to  get  the  necessitys  of 
life,  and  so  I  must  conclude  by  cutting  this  letter 
short  as  I  have  no  more  writing  paper  and  of  course 
no  money,  but  I  am  going  out  on  the  street  and 
see  cant  I  dig  up  a  few  old  rusty  dimes  and  now 
Good-bye  —  hoping  you  succeed  in  your  undertaking 
of  trying  to  get  Municipal  lodings  such  as  new 
york  as  got  because  I  have  been  there  and  no  it  is 
allright  but  the  main  point  is  to  have  decent  offi- 
cers in  those  places  an  not  Brutes  like  Boston  got. 
But  the  question  (Why  does  a  tramp  keep  tramp- 
ing) 

P.  S.  I  have  just  come  down  from  the  free  Em- 
ployment office  and  there  is  a  big  sign  on  the  win- 


IN   PORTLAND  159 

dow  Dont  loafe  in  front  of  this  building  come  in- 
side, and  when  you  get  inside  there  is  another  sign 
entilted  Dont  loaf  in  this  office. 
Nobody  in  this  part  of  the  country  knows  my  right 
name  because  I  have  about  a  dozen  or  maybe  more 
but  if  you  care  to  write  you  can  address  John  Mur- 
phy in  care  of  Peoples  institute  corner  of  4  and 
Burnside  sts.  Portl  Ore 


CHAPTER  XVI 
TACOMA 

"  The  greatest  bravery  is  theirs  who  humbly  dare,  and  know 
no  praise." 

1  STOOD  one  day  on  the  curbing  of  the  prin- 
cipal  street   in   Tacoma   watching  the   con- 
struction of  a  sky-scraper.     Near  me  stood 
a  man  of  thirty-five,  also  watching.     In  reply  to  a 
question  of  mine  concerning  the  wages  of  these 
builders  who  were  taking  such  fearful  risks,  he 
said: 

"  They  receive  four  dollars  and  a  half  a  day,  but 
one  does  not  have  to  float  in  the  open  air  on  a  steel 
beam  fifteen  stories  high,  only,  in  order  to  hold  his 
life  in  the  balance.  I  am  working  for  the  lumber 
trust  for  two  dollars  a  day  down  in  the  Sound.  I 
work  on  slippery  logs  under  which  is  a  current  so 
swift  and  treacherous  that  a  misstep  would  be  abso- 
lutely fatal.  But  I  was  glad  even  to  get  that  job 
for  I  was  broke  when  I  reached  here  and  slept  three 
nights  sitting  up  in  a  chair  in  a  saloon.  The  police 
thought  I  was  a  worthless  old  bum,  I  guess,  for 
every  little  while  they  would  come  along  and  rap 

160 


TACOMA  161 

me  awake.  Out  of  iny  two  dollars,  I  am  saving 
a  little,  though,  and  I  have  a  promise  of  a  better 
job.  If  I  get  that  I  will  soon  be  able  to  send  for  the 
wife  and  little  ones,"  and  as  he  left  me  the  thought 
touched  his  face  with  gladness. 

It  was  a  rainy  day,  the  Puget  Sound  country  be- 
ing filled  with  rain  and  cloud  during  the  winter 
months.  I  walked  up  to  the  City  Hall,  the  Asso- 
ciated Charities,  the  Free  Labor  Bureau  and  City 
Jail,  which  are  all  near  together.  I  counted 
twenty-five  men  standing  out  in  the  rain  waiting  for 
work.  They  were  a  pitiable  lot.  Stepping  inside, 
I  discovered  why  they  were  forced  to  remain  in  the 
storm.  The  office  space  for  applying  for  work  was 
about  large  enough  to  accomodate  six  men  com- 
fortably, and  there,  also,  was  a  very  noticeable  sign 
which  read,  "  No  Loafing  in  Here." 

Tacoma  offered  no  privileges  for  the  destitute 
out-of-work  man.  Here  he  will  find  no  free  bath 
but  the  Sound,  no  free  bed  but  a  chair  in  an  all- 
night  saloon  or  the  jail,  no  free  meal  without  beg- 
ging or  snatching  from  the  free  lunch  counter.  I 
counted  just  one  hundred  men  sitting  up  all  night 
in  chairs  in  the  various  saloons  of  the  city,  and  once 
more  I  appeal  to  Tacoma,  and  to  every  other  city, 
not  to  take  the  saloon  from  the  needy  until  it  can 
give  something  in  its  place. 

What  a  conflict  of  opinions  troop  in  at  the 
suggestion  of  the  word  saloon!  The  saloon  is  a 
livid,  malignant  tumor,  a  virulent  festering  ulcer 


162  "BROKE" 

discharging  corruption,  abhorrent,  odious.  It 
breathes  disease  from  neglected  cheap  lodgings, 
bull-pens  and  prisons.  It  is  a  destroyer  of  the 
City,  State  and  Country ;  a  murderer  of  reputation, 
character  and  society,  a  slayer  of  faith,  love,  hope 
and  belief  in  God.  Yet  I  have  found  it  (who  can 
deny  it?)  a  Christian  institution,  saving  the  lives 
of  men.  It  is  doing  what  the  church  does  not,  or 
will  not  do.  It  stands  a  haven  to  the  man  who  is 
desperate.  It  offers  shelter  and  food  to  the  home- 
less and  destitute  without  demanding  that  he  be- 
come a  mendicant.  It  is  true  it  may  be  only  a 
chair,  but  it  is  under  a  roof  and  provides  him  shel- 
ter from  the  night.  The  food  may  be  snatched 
from  a  fly-infested  free  lunch,  but  whether  he 
drinks  or  not  there  are  no  questions  asked. 

To  all  cities  I  want  to  say,  "  keep  your  saloons 
until  you  have  something  else  to  take  their  place." 

While  I  was  making  my  investigations  in  Ta-. 
coma,  I  stepped  into  the  Penal  Mission.  There 
was  quite  a  large  company  praising  God  and  tes- 
tifying what  God  had  done  for  them.  After  seeing 
what  I  had  seen,  and  knowing  what  I  knew,  I  could 
not  refrain  from  telling  them  that  I  thought  since 
God  had  done  so  much  for  them  they  surely  ought 
to  begin  to  do  something  for  God.  So  I  began  by 
telling  them  a  little  of  the  suffering  as  it  had  been 
revealed  to  me  in  Seattle  and  Tacoma.  I  was  ab- 
ruptly interrupted  by  the  leader  who  asked  me  if 
I  were  a  Christian,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that 


TACOMA  163 

this  was  a  testimony  meeting.  That  was  just  what 
I  thought  I  was  doing  —  testifying  for  Christ  — 
and  though  I  was  remonstrated  with  by  several 
men,  semi-believers,  for  leaving,  I  silently  stole 
away. 

While  in  Tacoma  I  met  Archdeacon  Grimes,  an 
old,  tried  and  true  friend.  He  introduced  me  to 
the  Tacoma  Woman's  Club,  which  I  found  to  be  one 
of  the  most  active  Women's  Clubs  in  this  country. 
The  labor  councils  also  were  deeply  interested. 
Tacoma  may  have  been  thoughtless,  perhaps  in  the 
past,  but  Tacoma  is  so  no  longer.  The  city  has 
awakened  to  her  needs  and  is  going  to  see  that  these 
needs  are  filled. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
IN  SEATTLE 

"  There  are  no  bad  herbs  or  bad  men;  there  are  only  bad  culti- 
vators."— HUGO. 

1  SHALL  never  forget  my  first  visit  to  Seattle 
several  years  ago.  I  came  from  Tacoma  by 
boat.  As  we  rounded  the,  point  in  the  bay 
the  magic  city  burst  into  view.  It  seemed  like  the 
work  of  genii,  this  mighty  commercial  gateway  to 
the  land  of  the  Alaskan, —  a  wonderful,  beautiful 
city,  solidly,  grandly  built  and  in  so  short  a  time. 
It  is  a  miracle  of  American  industry  and  enterprise. 
Its  citizens  have  force  and  power  and  determined 
character.  Yet  here  in  this  beautiful  spot,  I  found, 
as  in  other  cities,  the  starving,  homeless,  and  desti- 
tute. 

"  Will  you  give  me  enough  to  get  something  to 
eat?  "  asked  an  eighteen-year-old  young  man  as  he 
stopped  me  on  one  of  the  principal,  prosperous 
streets  of  Seattle.  He  was  such  an  object  of  pity 
that  I  hesitated  and  regarded  him  closely  before  I 
replied.  So  soiled  and  wretched  was  he  that  I 
stood  apart  lest  he  might  touch  me.  Not  alone  did 

164 


IN  SEATTLE  165 

his  clothing  speak  of  his  misery,  but  his  face  seemed 
burned  with  sin  and  neglect. 

"  Go  to  the  Charity  Society,"  I  said. 

"Will  they  help  me?"  he  eagerly  asked. 

I  looked  at  a  clock  nearby  and  saw  that  it  was 
then  fifteen  minutes  after  five. 

"  It  will  be  useless  for  you  to  go  there  now  as 
they  close  at  five,  but,"  I  said,  "  although  I'm  about 
broke,  too,  I  will  buy  you  a  beer." 

His  lip  trembled  and  tears  actually  filled  his  eyes 
as  he  said,  "  I  can  find  a  lot  of  fellows  who  will  buy 
me  a  beer,  but  I  can't  find  anyone  who  will  buy  me 
something  to  eat." 

The  next  day  I  looked  for  work  and  to  see  what 
privileges  were  accorded  for  the  out-of-work,  desti- 
tute man  in  Seattle.  First,  after  a  jungle  hunt,  I 
found  the  Charity  Society.  After  waiting  a  half- 
hour  far  up  in  a  very  high  building  in  a  dark  room 
with  a  lot  of  rubbish,  I  was  seen  and  put  through  a 
humiliating  lot  of  questions.  I  was  not  asked  if 
I  were  sick,  or  hungry,  or  whether  I  had  comfort- 
able clothing  or  needed  medicine.  I  was  asked  if 
I  were  a  church  member,  if  I  supported  my  wife, 
and  many  other  such  questions.  Then  I  was  offered 
a  ticket  for  two  twenty-cent  meals  at  a  restaurant 
and  a  bed  at  a  Mission  Lodging  House.  I  took  the 
names  and  addresses  of  these  places  and  making 
some  trivial" excuse  for  not  taking  the  tickets  (al- 
though I  could  have  given  hundreds  of  them  away 
that  night)  I  left. 


166  "BROKE" 

I  found  the  restaurant  in  a  slum,  and  while  I 
stood  in  its  doorway  I  counted  eight  saloons.  The 
lodging  house  I  found  in  the  heart  of  the  worst 
tenderloin  ever  created.  The  sleeping  quarters 
were  in  a  basement.  Its  immediate  surroundings 
were  Chinese  and  Japanese  who  come  to  this  coun- 
try bringing  all  of  their  own  vices  and  who  then 
promptly  adopt  all  of  ours.  Three  doors  from  the 
entrance  to  the  lodgings  is  a  brothel  of  the  lowest 
character.  It  harbors  seventy-five  scarlet  women 
of  the  worst  type,  and  it  is  only  one  of  the  many 
near  at  hand.  These  places,  which,  with  all  the 
other  corrupting  influences  for  sin,  make  up  Seat- 
tle's worst  hell,  cannot  be  described.  Yet  it  is  here 
that  the  heads  of  the  greatest  of  all  the  virtues 
send  their  homeless  to  rest.  I  rejoiced  to  under- 
stand that  Seattle  abolished  this  frightful  tender- 
loin at  the  end  of  the  administration  which  was  in 
control  of  the  city  at  the  time  of  my  visit. 

While  loafing  late  in  the  evening  in  one  of  the 
big  beer  joints,  a  strong,  healthy  fellow  with 
whom  I  had  been  talking  (and  in  our  talk  we  dis- 
covered we  were  both  broke)  said,  "  If  I  had 
thought  for  one  moment  I  would  not  have  been  at 
work  by  this  time,  I  would  not  have  sent  so  much 
of  my  money  home."  Then  he  continued,  "  Where 
are  you  going  to  sleep  to-night?  " 

With  a  quick  thought,  I  replied,  "  Oh,  I  am  fixed 
for  something  to-night.  I  have  two  places  and  you 
can  surely  have  one  of  them  if  you  want  it.  One 


IN   SEATTLE  167 

is  at  the  Salvation  Army.  I  was  up  there  not  long 
ago  and  the  attendant  told  me  they  couldn't  think 
of  giving  me  supper,  bath  and  breakfast,  but  if  I 
would  come  and  help  him  clean  up  between  eleven 
and  twelve  o'clock  at  night  he  would  give  me  a 
place  to  lie  down,  and  you  may  have  it.  Do  you 
want  it?" 

"  You  bet  I  do,"  he  answered.  Then  I  said,  "  It 
is  nearly  eleven  o'clock  now.  Let  us  go  there." 

As  we  approached  the  place  I  said,  "  I'll  not  go 
in  and  you  will  stand  a  better  show." 

He  went  in  with  an  uncertain  manner.  He  was 
not  used  to  begging.  Presently  he  returned  and 
said,  "  I  don't  see  anyone." 

"  He  is  back  in  there  somewhere,"  I  said,  "  hunt 
him  up." 

Trying  again,  I  saw  him  come  out  with  a  broom. 
Looking  through  the  window  he  saw  me,  smiled 
and  shook  his  hand  as  he  began  sweeping.  He  had 
got  his  job  and  covering. 

The  next  day  I  met  two  brothers,  one  of  whom 
was  pale  and  trembling  and  staggered  as  he  walked.. 
I  said  to  the  elder  boy  (for  they  were  only  boys), 
"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  kid?  " 

"  Sick.  They  let  him  stay  in  the  hospital  until 
he  could  walk.  I  guess  he  is  still  sick." 

These  boys,  one  a  tradesman  and  the  other  out 
of  work,  had  no  home,  no  money,  were  obliged  to 
beg,  and  were  sleeping  under  the  most  horrible  con- 
ditions. I  think  that  if  the  search  light  could  be 


168  "BROKE" 

thrown  on  every  man  destitute  of  a  home,  and  into 
the  places  he  is  forced  by  circumstances  to  seek 
rest  in  Seattle,  the  humanitarians  and  the  people 
of  that  city  who  really  care  would  walk  their  streets 
and  know  no  peace  until  a  remedy  had  been  found. 

As  I  looked  up  the  street  I  saw  a  large  stone 
building  and  asked  a  citizen  where  the  city  jail  was. 
He  pointed  to  the  great  stone  building  and  said, 
"  That  is  the  City  Hall.  On  the  top  floor  is  the 
City  Jail."  I  remarked,  "  That  is  wonderful. 
That  is  the  first  jail  I  have  ever  found  located  as 
that  one  seems  to  be.  It  must  be  very  bright  and 
light  and  sanitary,  compared  to  most  of  the  prisons, 
which  are  under  or  almost  under  the  ground." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  it  is,  but  it  makes  me  shud- 
der when  I  think  of  the  awful  den  we  had  for  years 
before  that  was  built." 

I  then  strolled  up  and  paid  a  visit  of  inspection 
to  the  jail.  Reluctantly  I  was  given  an  order  by 
the  police  captain,  directing  the  turnkey  to  grant 
me  the  privilege  of  looking  about.  The  place  im- 
pressed me  with  its  cleanliness,  its  light  and  its 
good  ventilation.  He  showed  me  first  its  bull-pen, 
one  huge  cell  of  concrete  and  steel,  absolutely  bare, 
where  the  inmates  could  only  stand,  lie  down,  or 
sit  down  on  its  concrete  floor,  and  I  remarked, 
"  You  must  have  as  many  as  twenty-five  in  there 
at  a  time." 

"  Yes,  seventy-five,"  he  replied,  and  I  saw  again 


IN   SEATTLE  169 

before  me  the  vision  (though  it  was  midday),  of 
the  midnight  scene  of  that  midnight  hell.  Then  I 
asked,  "Where  is  the  lodgers'  cell?" 

He  looked  at  me  a  little  quizzically  for  a  moment, 
and  then  showed  me  another  cell  about  half  as 
large  as  the  bull-pen.  "  This  is  it,"  he  said. 

It  contained,  as  I  remember,  six  young  men  or 
boys,  I  judged  in  their  teens,  and  at  that  time  of 
day  I  could  not  understand  why  they  should  be 
locked  in  there  if  they  were  only  lodgers.  So  I 
said,  "  Lodgers  are  often  forced  into  the  bull-pen, 
too,  are  they  not? "  and  he  said,  "  Yes."  This 
lodgers'  cell,  as  he  called  it,  was  also  absolutely 
bare,  a  stone  floor  the  only  rest  for  the  man  who 
must  work  or  look  for  work  on  the  morrow.  But 
there  was  the  Associated  Charities,  and  if  the  three 
hundred  shelterless  in  Seattle  could  have  found  it 
between  nine  and  five  o'clock,  they  would  have  been 
given  a  bed  no  doubt.  At  least  a  bed  was  offered 
me  there. 

Then  my  turnkey  tapped  slightly  on  a  solid  steel 
door  of  a  solid  steel  cell.  The  only  possible  means 
for  the  ingress  and  egress  of  air  to  this  dungeon 
was  a  small  opening  about  half  as  large  as  an  en- 
velope. If  I  am  not  mistaken  there  was  a  slide 
door  on  that  opening  which  could  be  closed,  too,  a 
device  which  is  on  all  other  similar  torture  cham- 
bers I  have  seen.  He  lightly  tapped  on  the  door, 
in  a  subdued  way,  with  an  expression  as  though 


170  "BROKE" 

he  ought  not  to  speak  but  must,  and  with  an 
assumed,  non-consequential  smile,  he  said  scarcely 
above  a  whisper,  "  There  is  a  man  in  there." 

"What  is  he  in  there  for?"  I  asked. 

"  They  are  trying  to  make  him  tell  something 
they  think  he  knows." 

Then  he  pointed  to  another  one  and  said,  "  There 
is  a  man  in  that  one  also." 

"  And  what  is  he  in  there  for?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  How  long  are  they  kept  in  there?  " 

"  Ten  days,  sometimes." 

I  knew  the  rest.  The  people  of  Seattle  know  the 
rest,  or  if  they  do  not,  they  can  learn  it  from  the 
other  stories  of  this  book.  There  may  be  laws 
governing  these  torture  hells  and  other  prison 
abuses,  but  any  government  that  allows  them  to 
exist  is  a  government  that  will  ignore  the  existence 
of  these  laws.  I  found  in  Seattle,  also,  six  boys 
held  for  the  Juvenile  Court,  locked  in  a  cell  in  the 
county  jail.  I  thought  of  Denver  and  her  beauti- 
ful Detention  Home  for  such  as  these. 

Sunday  evening  came.  I  had  heard  frequently 
of  a  certain  clergyman  since  coming  to  Seattle,  and 
believing  a  change  of  thought  and  scene  would  rest 
my  tired  heart  and  brain,  I  climbed  the  hill.  I 
passed  one  Romanist  Church  on  the  very  crown  of 
the  hill  so  large  and  elaborate  that  I  fancied  it 
must  have  cost  a  million.  At  last  I  reached  the 
object  of  my  search.  This  church,  too,  looked  down 


IN  SEATTLE  171 

on  Seattle's  best  and  worst.  I  entered.  It  was  a 
large  church.  I  think  perhaps  three  thousand  peo- 
ple were  in  attendance.  The  minister,  in  surplice, 
was  giving  out  his  notices.  One  was  that  the 
Prison  Association  wanted  more  clothing.  (I 
afterward  read  that  this  same  minister  recom- 
mended more  and  harsher  discipline  in  our  jails, 
especially  commending  the  whipping-post. )  As  the 
service  continued,  however,  I  found  that  I  could 
not  intelligently  receive  a  word.  Between  the 
sentences  I  could  plainly  hear :  "  They  are  trying 
to  make  him  tell  something  they  think  he  knows !  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SPOKANE 

"  Justitice  partes  sunt  non  violare  homines;  verecundice  non 
offendere." — CICEBO. 

"  Justice  consists  in  doing  no  injury  to  men, —  decency  in  giv- 
ing them  no  offence." 

4 '  "W"  ~W  E  passed  the  prison.  At  the  door 
1  •  hung  an  iron  chain  attached  to  a 

Jl  M  bell.  He  rang.  The  door  opened. 
1  Turnkey/  he  said,  politely  removing  his  cap, 
1  will  you  have  the  kindness  to  admit  me  and 
give  me  lodging  for  the  night?'  A  voice  re- 
plied, '  The  prison  is  not  an  inn.  Get  yourself 
arrested  and  you  will  be  admitted.' '  These  words 
were  spoken  to  Jean  Val  Jean  at  the  prison  door 

in  the  village  of  D in  France,  in  1815.  All  who 

have  read  the  Victor  Hugo  masterpiece  know  the 
wonderful  story. 

In  April,  1910,  nearly  one  hundred  years  after- 
ward, in  the  city  of  Spokane,  I  stepped  up  to  a 
police  officer  whom  I  met  on  the  streets  and  asked 
where  I  could  get  a  free  bed,  having  no  money,  nor 
friends,  nor  home  in  the  city.  He  answered,  "  You 

can't  find  anything  like  a  free  bed  in  this  town." 

172 


SPOKANE  173 

Then  I  asked  if  I  could  sleep  in  the  city  jail.  He 
replied,  "  No,  you  cannot.  We  have  received  in- 
structions to  send  no  one  to  the  jail."  Then  he 
added,  "  Get  yourself  run  in  and  you  can  lodge 
there." 

Here  was  a  condition  of  things  I  had  met  with 
nowhere  else.  Even  the  shelter  of  the  prison  was 
denied  a  penniless  wayfarer.  Nothing  daunted,  I 
resolved  to  try  to  the  fullest  what  Spokane  might 
offer  one  like  me.  I  was  told  that  one  of  the  mis- 
sions had  a  lodging  house.  They  perhaps  would 
take  me  in  for  charity.  I  determined  to  try.  I 
met  a  man  on  the  street  and  asked  him  where  it 
was.  He  said  he  believed  they  once  had  such  an 
institution.  He  thought  it  was  closed,  but  he  waa 
uncertain.  "  Ask  a  cop,"  he  said.  "  You  will  find 
one  on  the  next  block." 

I  went  as  directed  and  soon  saw  an  officer  of  the 
Spokane  police  force.  Stepping  up  to  him,  I  asked 
for  the  mission  lodging  house.  Instead  of  reply- 
ing, he  said,  "What  do  you  want  to  know  for?  " 

It  was,  or  ought  to  have  been,  his  duty  to  answer 
my  simple  civil  question.  What  right  had  he  to 
question  what  I  wanted  to  know  for?  What  busi- 
ness was  it  of  his  why  I  wanted  to  know?  But  he 
was  of  the  Spokane  police  force  and  was  endowed 
with  authority.  I  replied,  "  I  am  without  money 
and  I  am  looking  for  a  place  to  sleep.  I  thought 
perhaps  they  might  give  me  a  bed."  I  turned  and 
started  to  leave  him,  but  catching  me  roughly  by 


174  "BROKE" 

the  arm,  lie  said,  "  Hold  on  here.  Don't  you  leave 
me."  I  saw  before  me  those  horrible  nights  I 
had  endured  in  other  prisons,  and  my  first  impulse 
was  to  run.  But  I  remembered  the  eighteen-year- 
old  boy  in  Denver  who  was  shot  to  death  for  run- 
ning from  a  policeman. 

Then  the  Spokane  officer  said  to  me,  "  Who  are 
you,  anyway?"  I  answered,  as  I  had  in  Pitts- 
burg,  "  I  am  an  honest  working  man." 

"  And  what  do  you  do?  " 

"I  do  anything  I  can  to  earn  a  living."  He 
pulled  me  around  and  looked  at  my  face  on  both 
sides,  then  said.  "  Let  me  see  your  hands."  He 
regarded  them  closely,  remarking,  "  They  are 
pretty  soft  and  white  for  a  workingman's." 

"  There  are  thousands  of  workingmen  who  have 
soft  hands,"  I  replied.  "  There  are  waiters,  bar- 
bers, bookkeepers  and  clerks,  and  hundreds  of  posi- 
tions which  keep  men's  hands  soft  and  white." 

"  Yes,  but  your  hands  do  not  correspond  with 
your  clothes." 

"  I  wear  gloves  when  I  work.  There  are  a  great 
many  of  us  fellows  who  do  the  hardest  manual 
labor  and  wear  blue  jeans  who  wear  gloves  at  our 
work.  There  is  a  lot  of  work  that  will  lacerate 
the  most  hardy  hands." 

His  answer  was,  "  Come  with  me.  I  am  going 
to  take  you  down  anyway." 

We  were  not  far  from  the  jail.     He  did  not  ring 


SPOKANE  175 

up  a  big  team  of  horses,  a  wagon  and  two  or  three 
men,  or  an  automobile,  to  rush  me  to  the  jail  as 
they  do  in  other  cities,  although  they  do  this  in 
Spokane,  also.  We  walked,  and  while  we  walked, 
he  assured  me  twice  that  he  would  take  the  soft- 
ness out  of  my  hands  by  thirty  days  on  the  rock 
pile.  He  had  absolutely  and  completely  taken  the 
law  into  his  own  hands  before  we  ever  reached  the 
jail.  This  policeman  knew  what  could  and  would 
be  done  to  me,  simply  because  I  was  apparently 
poor  and  helpless,  and  if  their  system  in  Spokane 
was  as  it  is  in  other  cities,  I  could  be  so  nicely  used 
for  graft. 

Fathers  and  mothers  throughout  America,  what 
if  it  had  been  your  boy  in  Spokane  that  night,  with- 
out money  and  without  a  home?  Think  of  the 
awful  result!  Put  him  in  my  place  —  about  to 
receive  the  first  stigma  of  a  jail,  to  be  thrust  for 
thirty  days  among  hardened  criminals,  made  such 
by  this  same  social  system,  to  receive  wanton  in- 
sults and  abuse,  his  health  probably  ruined  for  life, 
—  possibly  murdered !  A  man  was  dying  at  that 
very  time  in  the  city  of  Spokane,  from  abuse  in  that 
same  city  jail.  Spokane  began,  from  the  first 
moment  of  my  arrest,  legally  to  plunder  me,  soul 
and  body. 

As  I  walked,  I  tried  to  incorporate  into  my  being, 
the  suffering  and  the  feelings  of  such  a  man  or 
boy.  They  would  not  have  accepted  his  statements 


176  "BROKE" 

as  to  his  identity,  no  matter  how  hard  he  tried, 
as  I  knew  they  would  be  obliged  to  receive  mine, 
and  there  would  have  begun  the  destruction  of  an- 
other American  citizen. 

On  reaching  the  jail  the  officer  stopped  me  in 
a  dark  entrance.  Pulling  out  his  search-light  he 
threw  it  over  me,  at  the  same  time  feeling  me  all 
over.  Why  he  did  this  I  could  not  understand, 
unless  he  may  have  thought  I  had  a  bomb  to  drop 
when  I  reached  the  Captain's  office. 

Intending  only  to  make  a  quiet  investigation  of 
Spokane,  I  did  not  leave  my  credentials  at  my  hotel 
but  had  them  in  an  inner  pocket  of  my  vest.  These 
included  several  letters  recently  received  from 
prominent  and  well-known  people  of  the  Coast. 
My  proof  was  sufficient  and  I  was  promptly  re- 
leased. They  seemed  to  be  surprised  that  I  was 
sober,  and  said,  "  Brown,  how  can  you  associate 
with  these  men  and  not  drink  ?  "  "  That  is  not 
necessary,"  I  replied.  "  There  are  thousands  of 
homeless,  starving  men  in  our  nation  to-day  who 
never  drink." 

While  I  was  telling  my  story  to  the  force,  a  re- 
porter for  the  leading  paper  of  the  city  came  in, 
and  that  paper  the  next  morning  carried  a  story 
which  stirred  the  town.  As  a  result  Spokane  is 
going  to  have  its  Free  Municipal  Emergency  Home. 
It  is  true  that  I  found  a  desperate  condition  of 
things  in  Spokane  for  the  man  without  the  dime. 
But  Spokane  is  no  longer  a  country  town,  hid  in 


SPOKANE  177 

the  pine  woods  of  Washington.  She  is  a  city — a 
city  of  stupendous  natural  resources,  a  city  of  a 
great  awakening.  She  has  begun  a  wonderful  phy- 
sical adornment  and  is  combining  with  it  those 
benevolent  adornments  to  conserve  her  citizens. 
Spokane  believes  in  the  abolition  of  all  influences 
that  destroy.  She  is  a  force  in  the  world  to-day. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
MINNEAPOLIS 

"I  never  wear  hand-made  laces  because  they  remind  me  of  the 
eyes  made  blind  in  the  weaving." — MABIE  COBELII. 

THE  morning  of  April  19,  1910,  found  me  in 
Minnehaha  Park,  Minneapolis,  resting  on 
the  green  moss  below  the  "  laughing 
waters"  of  Minnehaha  Falls.  This  wonderful 
spot  of  nature  took  possession  of  my  imagination 
until  I  was  in  one  of  God's  factories,  where  a 
thousand  creations  were  coming  into  life  and 
beauty.  The  sparkling  translucent  falls,  touched 
with  a  silver  light,  became  a  marvelous  lace- 
weaving  loom.  I  caught,  white  and  shining,  the 
actual  resemblance  to  the  hand-made  Irish,  the 
Duchess  and  Rose-point.  Over  all  this  great 
workshop  of  the  Diety  was  joy,  peace  and  hap- 
piness. For  the  first  time  real  lace  to  me  was 
beautiful,  for  it  was  of  God's  creation.  The  vision 
of  eyes  made  sightless,  the  stooped  shoulders  of 
the  aged,  the  little,  starving  children  overworked 
for  the  mere  pittance  to  exist,  these  were  not  in 

the  weaving.     To  the  thoughtful,  any  adornment, 

178 


MINNEAPOLIS  179 

the  price  of  which  is  paid  by  the  blood  of  human 
lives,  is  no  longer  beautiful.  Here  I  saw  that  every 
bird  and  bee,  all  insect  life,  even  the  smallest  and 
most  abject  about  me,  either  were  building  or  had 
built  homes. 

I  then  remembered  my  mission  to  Minneapolis. 
"  Surely,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  with  this  temple  of 
worship  to  which  the  good  folks  of  Minneapolis 
may  come,  thoughtlessness  and  selfishness  will  not 
be  found  here." 

Yet  I  wondered  if  I  should  find  it.  I  had  come 
to  continue  my  battle  for  my  homeless  brothers. 
The  approach  of  late  afternoon  and  night  found  me 
wandering  about  the  streets  a  jobless,  moneyless 
man  looking  for  work  and  shelter.  I  found  Min- 
neapolis not  in  advance  of  other  cities,  and  much 
behind  many  in  its  care  for  its  homeless  toilers. 

I  first  went  to  a  private  employment  office. 
There  seemed  plenty  of  work  to  do,  work  for  every- 
body, but  I  could  find  no  private  office  where  they 
would  give  me  work  and  trust  me  until  pay  day. 

I  visited  the  city  free  employment  bureau  where 
I  counted  fifty  men  looking  for  work.  There  were 
chairs  for  fourteen.  The  rest  seemed  quite  willing 
to  stand  as  long  as  their  feet  held  out,  in  the  hope 
of  securing  something.  As  I  scanned  their  faces 
I  thought  a  large  percentage  of  them  seemed  of 
the  type  driven  to  such  a  condition  by  lack  of  op- 
portunity to  make  an  honest  living.  Later  I 
learned  that  many  of  these  men  came  day  after 


180  "BROKE" 

day,  hungry  and  cold,  after  having  spent  the  night 
huddled  up  somewhere  in  the  open  air. 

Next  I  became  a  beggar.  I  began  looking  for  a 
public  institution  which  would  give  me  a  bed,  since 
I  was  unable  to  pay  for  one.  I  first  tried  the  As- 
sociated Charities.  The  attendant  took  me  into 
a  little  side  room  where  as  in  other  places,  all  sorts 
of  rubbish  was  stored,  and  asked  me  the  usual  list 
of  humiliating  questions.  Finally  he  told  me  they 
could  do  nothing  for  me,  as  it  was  too  near  their 
closing  time. 

Doubtless  this  institution  does  many  worthy 
things,  but  providing  shelter  for  the  homeless  man 
without  money  is  not  among  them. 

Directed  by  the  attendant  at  the  Associated 
Charities  (who  at  least  had  gotten  rid  of  me),  I 
went  to  the  Union  City  Mission.  The  attendant 
here,  after  making  me  repeat  my  questions  regard- 
ing the  possibility  of  a  penniless  man  getting  a 
supper  and  bed,  turned  on  his  heel  without  answer- 
ing me  and  began  to  turn  on  the  lights  —  for  even- 
ing prayers!  At  the  Salvation  Army  lodging 
house  the  attendant  simply  said:  "We  ain't  got 
nothin'  to  give  away."  At  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  "  the 
beds  were  all  full."  The  attendant  didn't  know 
whether  or  not  he  could  allow  me  to  take  a  bath, 
—  simply  a  polite  refusal. 

Next  I  appealed  to  the  police.  Asking  the  first 
officer  I  met  where  a  man  without  money  could 
get  a  bath,  I  was  directed  to  the  river.  He  then 


MINNEAPOLIS  181 

recalled  the  advice  however,  saying  it  was  too 
early  in  the  season  for  the  public  baths  to  be  open. 
Another  policeman  referred  me  to  the  old  city  lock- 
up (Central  Station)  for  lodging,  saying,  "Go 
there.  They  will  give  you  a  cell." 

I  did  not  go  to  the  extreme  of  enduring  the  hard- 
ships forced  upon  the  indigent,  honest  workers  of 
Minneapolis.  It  was  not  necessary.  I  knew  the 
pitiful  condition  only  too  well. 

Just  as  I  finish  this  story  there  is  laid  on  my 
study  table  a  letter,  wrhich  reads : 

"  In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1910  the  Board, 
realizing  the  necessity  of  providing  some  lodging 
place  for  the  transient  class  unable  to  pay  for  ac- 
commodations, decided  to  install  a  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Home  on  the  second  floor  of  the  old  city  lock- 
up (Central  Station).  The  work  of  installing  this 
home  was  accomplished  at  an  expense  of  $3,426.28. 
It  was  opened  on  the  tenth  of  January,  1911,  pre- 
pared to  accommodate  fifty  applicants.  The  first 
three  months  of  its  operation  demonstrated  the  fact 
that  in  order  to  care  for  all  demands  it  would  be 
necessary  to  increase  the  space. 

"  We  have  now  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home 
that  will  accommodate  a  hundred  and  forty.  The 
house  is  just  as  sanitary  as  it  is  possible  to  make 
an  emergency  home.  It  has  all  modern  improve- 
ments, separate  beds,  baths,  medical  attendance, 
and  fumigation.  Lodgers  are  furnished  with  clean 


182  "BROKE" 

night-robes  and  socks  and  given  a  good  wholesome 
breakfast.  Of  course  this  is  entirely  free.  If  a 
man  has  money  we  turn  him  away.  The  home  is 
supported  by  public  taxation." 


CHAPTER  XX 

IN  THE  GREAT  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK 

"  The  day-laborer  is  reckoned  as  standing  at   the  foot  of  the 
social  scale.     Yet  he  is  saturated  with  the  laws  of  the  world." 

—  EMERSON. 

WHEN  my  investigations  on  the  Pacific 
coast  were  over  I  felt  that  the  strenu- 
ous part  of  my  work, —  that  is  the 
work  of  coming  down  to  the  personal  level  of 
destitute  men, —  was  over.  But  from  the  South 
came  such  an  appeal  that  I  was  prompted  to 
continue  my  study  at  first  hand  for  another  year. 
So  late  in  the  summer  of  1910,  I  found  myself,  a 
penniless  man  again,  drifting  along  the  docks  on 
the  west  side  of  New  York,  seeking  work  as  a  long- 
shoreman. 

I  was  unsuccessful  until  about  10  A.  M.  Then 
a  flag  was  run  up  at  pier  forty -three  indicating  that 
a  fruit  ship  from  the  south  was  docked.  Just  then 
a  young  man  hurrying  along  asked,  as  he  passed 
me,  "Are  you  looking  for  work?"  I  answered  in 
the  affirmative. 

"  Hurry  along  then  and  we  will  get  in  on  the  job." 

183 


184  "BROKE" 

Running  breathlessly  we  reached  the  dock. 
There  were  two  hundred  ahead  of  us.  After  an 
hour  of  jostling,  pushing,  crowding  and  clashing 
with  upraised  hands  we  succeeded  in  getting  near 
enough  to  the  distributor  to  arrest  his  attention 
long  enough  to  receive  a  work-check  which  entitled 
us  to  work  at  the  wage  scale  of  twenty-five  cents  an 
hour. 

I  noticed  among  the  workers  as  we  continually 
passed  and  re-passed  one  another,  a  pale,  slim  young 
man.  He  had  a  hectic  flush  on  his  cheeks  and  wore 
colored  eye-glasses.  The  work  was  extremely  la- 
borious, so  much  so  that,  after  working  approxi- 
mately an  hour  and  being  unaccustomed  to  such 
work,  I  began  to  tremble  and  to  have  frequent  sen- 
sations of  dizziness.  I  realized  that  I  must  desist, 
so  cashed  in,  receiving  twenty-five  cents  for  my 
work.  Just  ahead  of  me,  cashing  in  also,  was  the 
pale  young  man,  whose  whole  frame  seemed  to 
shake  involuntarily,  while  the  flush  on  his  cheeks 
had  turned  purple.  It  was  evident  that  he  also 
had  no  strength  left  to  continue  the  work.  As  we 
left  the  pier  and  strolled  down  West  Street  to  Bat- 
tery Park,  he  told  me  his  story : 

"  I  need  money  bad,  but  I  couldn't  do  that  work. 
I  am  a  Swiss,  a  watchmaker  by  trade,  but  because 
of  my  failing  eyesight  a  specialist  declared  I 
must  absolutely  change  my  occupation  or  go 
blind.  What  can  I  do?  I  am  fitted  for  nothing 
but  my  trade.  While  struggling  for  a  comfortable 


JLAUNICIPAL  Lodging  House,  New  York  City 
Male  Dormitory 


\/ir\I('IPAL  Lodging  House,  New  York  City 
Female  Dormitory 


THE  GREAT  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK      185 

existence  for  myself  and  young  wife  my  health 
failed.  I  feel  that  the  only  hope  of  regaining  it 
is  an  absolute  change  of  climate.  I  have  a  friend 
in  Texas  who  writes  me  of  the  opportunity  offered 
to  the  truck  gardener  there,  but  it  takes  money  to 
go  and  it  takes  money  to  establish  yourself  when 
you  reach  there.  You  see  I  have  no  money.  I 
believe,  even  here  in  New  York  State,  if  I  could 
have  an  out-door,  country  life,  I  would  speedily  get 
well.  I  am  living  with  my  sister  in  Brooklyn. 
She  is  poor,  also,  but  it  is  a  home.  I  suppose  I 
might  start  out  and  work  for  enough  to  eat  on  my 
way,  and  steal  my  passage  to  some  health-giving 
climate.  I  may  eventually  be  forced  to  do  this. 
But  even  if  the  railroads  had  not  created  State 
laws  making  it  a  criminal  offense  in  all  States  to 
travel  that  way,  I  could  not  go  now." 

He  showed  me  a  letter  from  the  Johnsbury  State 
Sanitarium  for  the  Insane  he  had  received  that 
morning,  stating  that  his  wife  was  no  better.  She 
was  laboring  under  an  hallucination,  demanding 
continually  that  mass  be  said  for  her.  Her  little 
babe  was  expected  in  about  a  week,  and  it  was  ex- 
pected of  him  as  soon  as  possible  to  send  clothing 
for  it. 

I  sat  and  pondered  for  awhile,  looking  far  out 
to  the  Statue  of  Liberty  Enlightening  the  World. 
Passing  time  had  pierced  it  full  of  holes,  letting 
the  daylight  through.  I  left  the  young  man.  and 
a  little  later  was  strolling  around  the  docks  on  the 


186  "BROKE" 

East  Side.  Finally  I  came  to  Wall  Street.  Here 
at  the  entrance  of  this  street  I  came  upon  the 
quartermaster's  department  of  the  United  States 
Army.  Over  the  door  was  the  Coat  of  Arms, — 
the  Eagle  for  Uncle  Sam,  the  Sword  for  Defense, 
the  Key  for  Security.  Walking  about  half  the 
length  of  Wall  Street,  I  came  to  the  great  sub- 
treasury  of  the  United  States,  and  directly  across 
the  street,  almost  in  hand-shaking  distance,  the 
powerful  banking  concern  of  J.  Pierpont  Morgan 
&  Co.  Going  on,  I  came  to  the  other  end  of  this 
world-renowned  street  where  stands  Old  Trinity. 
I  was  weary  beyond  words  to  express.  So  I  sat 
down  on  the  steps  to  rest.  Presently,  high  up  in 
its  tower,  the  chimes  began  to  ring.  A  little  later, 
from  within  the  church  rang  out  an  old  familiar 
hymn,  one  stanza  of  which  seemed  peculiarly  ap- 
propriate. 

"  What  num'rous  crimes  increasing  rise 
Through  this  apostate  isle! 
What  land  so  favored  of  the  skies, 
And  yet,  what  land  so  vile !  " 

"  Good  heavens !  "  I  said  to  myself,  "  what  ails 
that  old  bell  ringer?  Is  he  stone  deaf  or  gone  mad? 
Is  there  not  someone  to  arrest  him?  "  I  knew  how 
useless  it  would  be  to  try  to  find  that  some- 
one, for  those  with  the  will  to  do  so  were  in  Europe, 
or  in  Newport,  or  up  the  Hudson,  or  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks.  As  I  took  my  weary  way  up  Broadway,  I 


THE  GREAT  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK     187 

heard  in  every  step  on  the  pavement  the  familiar 
melody,  familiar  words :  — 

"  What  land  so  favored  of  the  skies, 
And  yet,  what  land  so  vile!  " 

Leaving  Broadway  I  turned  into  a  large  "  scoop 
joint "  (saloon) .  In  the  corner  where  the  free  lunch 
was  served  a  large  brindle  bull-dog  was  chained 
near  a  big  stack  of  bread.  I  realized  that  I  was 
on  the  Bowery.  A  little  further  up  the  street,  just 
as  I  was  passing  a  door-way,  a  man  with  a  bundle 
came  rolling  down  the  stairs.  From  the  sound  of 
a  voice  above  I  knew  he  had  been  forcefully  thrown 
out.  He  was  about  fifty  years  of  age,  almost  help- 
less from  the  effects  of  alcohol  or  some  other  poison. 
Only  slightly  bruised,  he  regained  his  feet,  but  was 
hopelessly  unable  to  gather  his  effects.  His  bun- 
dle had  burst  open  and  the  contents  were  scattered 
about  promiscuously.  His  helpless  condition  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  many  passers-by  and  a 
group  soon  gathered  to  watch  his  futile  efforts  to 
regain  his  lost  possessions.  It  was  a  sight  too  sad 
to  be  amusing.  Suddenly  a  workingman  stepped 
forward,  gathered  the  belongings  together,  and 
fastened  them  securely.  In  the  dull  dazed  face  of 
the  abandoned  man  there  was  a  look  of  deepest 
gratitude.  As  his  new  friend  had  gathered  up 
his  belongings  a  small  book  with  an  inscription  in 
gold  letters  fell  from  among  them.  As  he  held  up 


188  "BROKE" 

the  book  I,  too,  could  read  the  title :  The  New  Tes- 
tament. That  poor  unfortunate  impressed  me  as 
being  as  great  as  the  greatest  man  that  ever  lived, 
for  he  had  tried. 

Through  this  great  human  funnel,  the  Bowery 
(and  it  is  not  the  only  one  in  New  York  through 
which  pours  the  sin,  the  shame,  the  disease  and  the 
disgrace  of  this  great  city ) ,  I  wandered  on.  Seeing 
a  crowd  gathered  on  the  pavement  in  one  place,  I 
stopped  and  saw  lying  prone  upon  her  face,  a 
wretched  creature  whose  skirt  had  fallen  from  her 
body.  She  lay  there  nude,  defenseless,  uncovered 
to  the  view  of  the  morbid  throng.  The  unfortunate, 
though  helpless,  was  conscious  of  her  shame,  and 
was  making  futile  efforts  to  hide  her  disgrace. 
Just  then  there  happened  along  a  good  Samaritan, 
who,  stepping  through  the  crowd,  took  from  his 
shoulders  a  blue  cotton  jumper  and  covered  this 
wreck  of  womanhood.  Turning  to  the  gaping  by- 
standers, he  angrily  heaped  upon  them  so  scathing 
a  rebuke  that  with  flushed  faces  and  hanging  heads 
they  stole  away.  He  asked  of  some  women  who 
stood  near  by  if  they  would  shield  the  woman  until 
the  arrival  of  an  ambulance.  One  of  them  kindly 
consented  to  do  so.  I  turned  away  sick  at  heart 
for  I  knew  the  pathetic  finish,  that  the  only  open 
door  New  York  held  for  this  unfortunate  one  was  a 
prison  door. 

As  I  went  along,  I  saw  again  Old  Trinity  with 
its  stained  glass  windows,  its  old  burying  ground, 


THE  GREAT  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK     189 

worth  millions,  where  the  dead  have  rested  for  two 
hundred  years,  and  I  thought :  "  After  all,  it  was 
the  Bowery  that  revealed  to  me  to-day  '  the  gol- 
den rule  of  Christ/  which  alone  can  bring  '  the 
golden  rule  of  man.'  '• 

With  the  vanishing  of  the  sunshine  and  shadows 
which  all  day  long  had  been  playing  in  and  about 
Union  Square  —  whose  bits  of  green  lawn,  sparkling 
fountains,  and  many  settees  welcome  the  weary 
and  heavy  laden,  for  a  little  time  at  least,  and  in- 
vite rest, —  came  the  myriad  lights  of  the  great  city 
which  follow  the  active  day  of  toil  and  care.  At 
evening  I  found  myself  resting  there.  I  had  taken 
a  seat  beside  a  white-haired,  soft-spoken,  slightly- 
bent  man,  clothed  in  a  discolored  suit,  badly  worn 
shoes  and  tattered  hat, —  a  man  who  seemingly  had 
received  all  the  blows  and  hardships  our  tough  old 
world  can  give.  Indifferently  I  drew  him  casually 
into  conversation.  The  information  I  gained  was 
taken  out  of  the  crucible  of  a  pathetic  life,  and  it 
revealed  a  story  which  may  be  summed  up  in  a  few 
words:  Youth,  hope,  health,  success,  love,  happi- 
ness, reverses,  crosses,  trials,  temptations,  error, 
ruin,  impaired  health,  old  age,  discouragement, — 
no,  not  entirely.  He  still  had  left  a  spark  of 
courage.  He  still  believed  in  himself.  He  spoke 
of  the  detriment  of  his  physical  weakness,  caused 
by  a  State  institution  (I  knew  it  was  a  prison) 
into  which  he  was  forced ;  of  the  prejudice  against 
the  man  a  little  beyond  middle  life  who  was  looking 


190  "BROKE" 

for  work ;  of  the  past  that  stood  as  a  barrier  between 
him  and  an  ability  to  re-establish  himself  in  society. 
Yet  he  hopefully  added,  "  I  have  a  job  now  at  seven 
dollars  a  week  and  my  board.  I  shall  be  able  to 
get  the  decent  clothes  so  essential  in  finding 
better  work,  with  better  pay."  When  he  realized 
that  I  was  apparently  in  a  worse  position  than  him- 
self, for  I  seemed  both  workless  and  penniless,  we 
talked  of  our  mutual  vicissitudes.  He  referred  me 
to  the  Municipal  Lodging  House  of  New  York,  de- 
claring he  had  found  it  both  a  refuge  and  a  salva- 
tion at  a  time  when  it  almost  seemed  to  him  that 
life  meant  utter  abandonment,  even  to  self-destruc- 
tion. 

I  did  not  go  to  that  beautiful  home  that  night, 
but  I  stood  instead  in  the  "  Bread  Line  "  on  the 
northwest  corner  of  Broadway  and  Twelfth  Street. 
It  was  ten  o'clock,  and  although  the  bread  was  not 
to  be  given  out  to  the  starving  poor  of  the  city  until 
midnight,  a  crowd  had  already  begun  to  collect  in 
front  of  Old  Grace  Church,  the  wealth  of  which  is 
said  to  be  almost  fabulous.  Extending  up  this 
street,  long  before  the  hour  of  distribution  began, 
was  a  line  in  which  I  counted  five  hundred  men. 
There  were  no  women  among  them.  There  was  no 
jest  or  laughter.  They  seemed  as  mute  as  "  dumb 
driven  cattle."  Just  at  midnight,  after  the  line  had 
been  standing  several  hours,  two  men  appeared  with 
the  bread.  There  was  a  sudden  rush  across  the 
street  to  be  the  first  in  line.  A  police  rule  seemed 


THE  GREAT  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK     191 

to  be  in  force  to  the  effect  that  no  one  was  allowed 
to  stand  on  that  side  of  the  street  until  the  hour  ar- 
rived for  giving  the  bread  away.  After  this  long 
wait,  my  share  of  this  left-over  bread  was  a  piece 
weighing  just  four  ounces.  When  I  remembered 
that  during  the  throes  of  that  long  and  bitter  win- 
ter this  one  bread  line  (New  York  has  several) 
grew  from  five  hundred  to  two  thousand  men,  the 
blazing  cross  which  I  could  see  from  the  high  church 
tower  became  "  the  handwriting  on  the  wall." 

Should  you  ask  me  why  these  men  do  not  seek 
shelter  in  New  York's  Municipal  Home,  I  could  tell 
you  in  a  few  words.  Notwithstanding  the  gener- 
ous and  hospitable  character  of  the  institution,  it  is 
usually  crowded  to  overflowing. 

While  studying  the  character  and  the  aspirations 
of  the  honest  unemployed  in  all  parts  of  the  coun- 
try, I  found  in  most  of  them  the  desire,  the  longing 
for  country  life.  Even  the  hardened  frequenter  of 
saloons  and  other  vicious  places  seemed  anxious  to 
change  his  environment.  They  all  recognized  this 
to  be  of  great  benefit  in  starting  life  anew,  and  in 
trying  to  become  useful  members  of  society.  1 
found  many  had  gone  to  the  country.  Many  more 
desired  to  go  up  the  Hudson  River  to  work  on  the 
farms,  in  the  fruit  orchards  and  the  open  fields.  I 
determined  to  follow  them  and  see  what  it  all  meant. 

So  the  following  day  found  me  again  one  of  that 
army  to  whom  society  is  inclined,  in  fact  is  fond  of 


192  "BROKE" 

referring  to,  as  "  men  who  won't  work," —  seeking 
an  existence.  I  met  a  great  many  who,  like  myself, 
were  looking  for  work.  But,  unlike  me  (for  I  had 
money)  some  were  starving,  some  were  ill.  Many 
were  crippled  from  much  walking,  several  showed 
me  blisters  on  their  ankles  and  feet  as  large  as  a 
twenty-five  cent  piece.  I  found  work  for  one  of  my 
English  tongue  exceedingly  difficult  to  obtain. 
At  Tarrytown,  I  asked  for  work  at  an  enormous 
estate  with  a  national  reputation.  At  this  time 
they  were  employing  three  hundred  men,  all 
Italians.  There  was  no  work  for  me.  They  had  all 
the  help  they  needed.  When  I  asked  for  the  privi- 
lege of  working  for  my  dinner,  the  foreman  looked 
austerely  at  me  and  answered,  indirectly,  "  You 
understand  if  you  did  work  here  you  would  receive 
your  pay  but  once  a  month." 

"  What  is  the  pay?  "  I  asked. 

"  A  dollar  and  seventy-five  cents  a  day,  and  you 
board  yourself." 

Those  Italian  workmen  were  walking  several 
miles  a  day  to  and  from  work  for  that  wage.  I 
heard  among  them  numerous  complaints.  I  won- 
dered why.  In  the  land  of  the  Comorra,  on  the 
drive  from  Sorrento  to  Pompeii,  I  had  seen  these 
same  men  in  harness,  hitched  to  wagons,  hauling 
loads  of  stone  like  beasts  of  burden. 

Someone  told  me  if  I  wanted  farm  work  I  must 
travel  further  back  in  the  country,  which  I  did.  I 
was  not  successful  in  finding  it  until  the  morning  of 


\AUNICIPAL  Lodging  /TVm.sr,  Xew  York  City 
Fumigating  Chambers  —  Loading  up 


L  Lodging  House,  Xew  York  City 
Fumigating  Chambers  —  Sealed  up 


THE  GREAT  CITY  OP  NEW  YORK      193 

the  second  day.  Just  over  a  stone  wall  I  saw  five 
men  at  work  picking  cucumbers  for  pickles.  A 
little  way  off  stood  a  very  large,  beautiful  farm 
house.  I  was  right  when  I  drew  the  conclusion 
that  the  owner  was  a  wealthy  old  farmer.  He  was 
holding  his  farm  at  a  fabulous  sum,  believing  he 
would  receive  it  from  a  certain  land  owner  who 
would  eventually  buy  at  any  price.  Leaping  the 
wall  I  confronted  the  farmer,  who  needed  me  exceed- 
ingly at  one  dollar  a  day  and  board, —  I  supposed 
for  not  more  than  ten  hours'  work,  but  asked  no 
questions.  I  soon  discovered  that  beside  the  old 
man,  my  field  companions  were  the  old  man's  son 
and  their  hired  men.  No  one  spoke.  Noiselessly 
and  silently  we  worked,  carrying  the  pickles  in 
baskets  on  our  shoulders,  as  fast  as  we  gathered 
them,  into  a  shed,  where  we  emptied  them  into 
barrels.  It  rained  at  intervals  all  day,  but  that 
made  no  difference.  We  worked  on.  The  mud  and 
wet  ground  soaked  our  shoes.  The  rough  basket, 
in  constant  contact  with  my  shoulder,  wore  a  hole 
through  my  jumper,  which  was  a  serious  considera- 
tion when  I  reflected  on  my  day's  pay. 

At  noon  we  were  called  to  dinner.  After  stand- 
ing what  seemed  an  interminable  time  to  a  hungry 
man  who  for  half  a  day  had  picked  cucumbers  out 
on  the  wet  ground,  beneath  dripping  trees,  we  were 
allowed  to  go  in  to  dinner.  In  a  rough  outer  room 
there  was  portioned  out  to  each  of  the  four  hired 
men  a  bowl  of  tea,  a  tin  plate  containing  vegetables 


194  "BROKE" 

and  a  small  piece  of  meat.  We  were  fed,  about  as 
the  dog  was  fed,  except  that  we  sat  at  a  table.  Not 
one  of  my  three  fellow-workers  had  yet  spoken  to 
me.  Turning  to  the  one  on  my  right  I  smiled  and 
made  some  off-hand  remark  about  the  tough  meat, 
which  just  at  that  moment  he  seemed  to  be  strug- 
gling with.  He  smiled  back  but  made  no  reply.  I 
looked  across  the  table  at  the  slim,  black  eyed,  busy 
fellow  opposite  me  and  made  some  non-consequen- 
tial remark.  He  grinned  with  a  little  more  accent 
than  my  right  hand  man.  I  then  spoke  to  the  man 
on  my  left,  who  was  an  old  man  of  three  score  years 
and  ten.  He  had  his  face  very  close  to  his  plate  and 
did  not  raise  his  head.  I  then  discovered  that  one 
of  the  men  was  a  Hun,  the  other  a  Pole.  Neither 
could  speak  or  understand  my  language,  and  the 
old  man,  a  Dutchman,  was  stone  deaf.  This  was 
about  the  most  convivial  dinner  party  I  had  ever 
attended.  The  afternoon  was  about  as  jovial  as  the 
dinner,  and  was  augmented  by  more  showers  and 
a  big  lot  of  pickles.  Did  you  ever  pick  pickles?  If 
not,  don't  do  it,  at  least  not  for  one  dollar  a  day, 
unless  you  must.  How  your  back  aches  from  con- 
tinual stooping!  Your  fingers,  black,  bruised,  and 
sore  from  the  tiny,  prickly  cucumber  points,  drive 
a  fellow  to  saying  things  he  would  not  dare  to  say 
before  his  dad. 

At  four  o'clock  the  farmer  left,  to  haul  the  pickles 
to  the  pickle  factory.  At  five  o'clock  the  Dutchman 
and  the  Pole  went  in  to  milk.  These  men  wTere 


working  by  the  month,  each  receiving  fifteen  dollars 
a  month.  On  this  farm  many  cows  were  milked. 
At  six  o'clock  the  son  quit,  which  made  little  differ- 
ence, as  he  spent  most  of  his  time  in  the  shed.  As 
he  was  leaving  I  said,  "  Is  it  time  to  quit?  "  He 
answered  decidedly, "  No,  I'll  tell  you  when  to  quit.'' 
And  so  the  Austrian  and  I  worked  on.  The  son 
had  mounted  his  motorcycle  and  flashed  by  us  like 
a  spark  from  a  trolley.  The  Hun  followed  him  with 
an  intense  look  which  seemed  to  say :  "  When  I 
get  my  American  farm  I,  too,  shall  have  one." 

It  was  getting  dark,  and  still  no  call  to  stop  work. 
If  I  had  known  only  two  words  of  Slavic  it  would 
have  been  a  relief.  But  I  did  not.  So  I  did  the 
next  best  thing.  I  expressed  my  feelings  by  throw- 
ing my  basket  as  far  as  I  could  send  it  across  the 
field  and  started  toward  the  house.  The  Hun 
looked  amazed.  As  I  drew  near,  far  up  in  the  house 
somewhere,  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  tinkling 
piano,  one  of  the  old  farmer's  daughters  was  singing 
in  a  voice  absolutely  devoid  of  tune,  "  I  want  to  go 
to  Heaven  right  away."  I  hoped  she  would.  Just 
then  the  son  rode  up  on  his  spinning  wheel  and 
asked,  "What  did  you  quit  for?"  I  replied,  "1 
came  up  for  a  lantern." 

He  then  called  the  Hun.  Our  carte  du  jour  for 
supper  was  a  duplicate  of  the  dinner,  only  it  was 
stone  cold.  We  plebs  slept  in  an  oppressive  attic 
room.  We  were  called  at  three  A.  M.  to  get  up  and 
go  to  milking.  Not  being  a  regular  man,  I  sup- 


196  "BROKE" 

posed  I  was  not  included  in  the  call,  although  I 
noticed  the  Hun  responded.  After  my  fellow-work- 
ers left  I  turned  over  for  a  much-needed,  final  rest, 
but  just  as  I  was  dozing  into  sleep  I  heard  the  old 
farmer  puffing  up  the  stairs. 

"  Hey,  you  fellow,"  he  called,  "  get  up  there  and 
get  out  and  help  those  fellers  milk." 

"  All  right,"  I  responded.  I  did  get  up  and  out, 
but  it  was  to  the  woodshed  where  my  bundle  lay, 
and  while  I  was  putting  it  together  the  old  man 
passed  hurriedly  by  the  window  again,  headed  for 
the  garret  stairs  with  the  look  of  Cain  on  his  face,  to 
see  why  I  still  lingered.  I  heard  the  heavy  tread 
on  the  stairs,  as  I  was  passing  out  across  the  lawn 
toward  the  nearest  town.  Yes,  there  was  one  dollar 
due  me,  but  I  sent  word  back  to  one  of  these,  my 
proletaire  brothers,  that  he  could  have  it,  and  I  sug- 
gested that  it  might  be  well  spent  toward  buying  a 
talking  machine  to  be  used  while  they  dined  at  that 
bountiful,  hilarious  table,  at  the  pickle  farm. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

NEW  YORK  STATE  —  THE  OPEN  FIELDS 

"  Every  man  has  something  to  sell  if  it  is  only  Ms  arms,  and  so 
has  that  property  to  dispose  of." — EMEBSON. 

PICKLE  picking  had  not  proved  profitable. 
Continuing  my  search  I  found  that  factory 
work  was  out  of  the  question.  At  all  the 
factories  where  I  had  applied  the  reply  had  been, 
invariably,  "  We  have  a  hundred  applicants  for 
every  vacancy."  In  one,  it  is  true,  I  might  have 
had  work  had  I  been  a  skillful  hatter.  But  I 
wasn't.  So  I  resolved  to  follow  out  my  original 
intention  of  trying  the  fruit  farms  which  lay  on  the 
west  side  of  the  river,  beginning  at  Balmville,  some 
thirty  miles  up  the  stream. 

With  this  in  view  I  crossed  the  Hudson.  The 
coming  of  the  night  found  me  in  densely-wooded, 
deeply-shaded  intra-mural  roadways,  extending  for 
miles,  to  which  clung  clambering  vines  bearing 
clusters  of  tiny  fragrant  flowers,  and  red,  black 
and  yellow  berries.  Here  and  there  were  inter- 
secting drive-ways,  the  entrances  to  which  were 
guarded  by  huge  stone  columns  supporting  massive 

197 


198  "BROKE" 

gates,  over  which  the  summer  had  already  begun 
to  weave  garlands  of  honeysuckle  and  eglantine. 

I  could  see  at  times,  far  through  the  foliage,  the 
shining  light  of  the  palaces.  I  could  hear  merry 
laughter  and  the  sweet  song  of  a  singer  with  a 
wonderful  voice  singing  a  wonderful  song.  It  was 
nearing  midnight.  I  was  growing  very  hungry 
and  weary.  I  saw  a  light  in  the  distance,  near  the 
road  at  the  foot  of  a  long  hill.  It  was  an  inn. 
The  light  was  in  the  bar-room.  I  entered.  Two 
occupants,  Italians  (one  behind  the  bar),  were 
quietly  conversing.  Entering  I  asked  the  man  be- 
hind the  bar  if  he  could  give  me  supper  and  a  bed, 
adding,  "  I  have  money."  He  looked  at  me  curi- 
ously. I  did  not  wonder  at  it  for  I  was  travel- 
worn.  The  bundle  and  stick  I  carried  were  covered 
with  the  dust  of  the  highway. 

In  reply  to  my  inquiry  he  answered,  "  I  have  no 
bed."  Turning  to  his  companion  he  said  (in  Ital- 
ian), "  He  looks  as  though  he  had  come  a  long  way. 
I  think  he  is  from  a  prison.  Let  him  sleep  by  the 
road.  He  will  not  suffer." 

I  looked  straight  at  the  man,  saying,  "  I  may  be 
all  that  you  say,  but  I  am  honest." 

Slightly  nonplussed  he  looked  at  me  and  grinned, 
saying,  "  Ah,  you  speak  Italian !  " 

"  I  spent  one  winter  on  the  blue  bay  of  Naples," 
I  answered,  "and  understand  a  little." 

I  had  struck  a  sympathetic  chord.  He  assured 
me  that  he  told  me  the  truth  when  he  said  he  had 


NEW  YORK— THE  OPEN  FIELDS      199 

no  bed  to  give,  but  he  invited  me  to  a  good  supper. 
Greatly  refreshed  and  not  caring  to  sleep  by  the 
roadside,  I  continued  my  journey.  I  decided  that 
I  could  reach  West  Point  by  daylight. 

After  I  had  traveled  some  distance,  intuitively 
I  became  possessed  of  a  feeling  of  depression.  I 
felt  that  I  was  in  a  realm  which  demanded  caution. 
A  gargoyle  on  the  roadside,  until  I  saw  what  it 
really  was,  startled  me  nearly  out  of  my  senses. 
I  heard  the  mournful  baying  of  hounds  in  the  dis- 
tance. I  was  conscious  of  climbing  a  mountain. 
The  wayside  had  become  open,  barren  of  trees, — 
its  features  mostly  brush  and  rocks.  I  frequently 
passed  large  signs  which  I  could  not  read  from  the 
center  of  the  road,  but  becoming  curious,  I  ap- 
proached one  of  them  and  read :  "  The  property  of 
Sing  Sing  Prison  of  the  State  of  New  York.  All 
trespassers  are  liable  to  be  shot."  I  was  on  Bear 
Mountain.  Fearful  of  the  probability  of  being 
near  to  some  headquarters,  and  that  this  warning 
might  be  carried  out,  I  turned  and  went  down  in 
the  deep  woods  below,  where  I  rested  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night.  As  I  turned  back  I  saw  far 
below  me  on  the  silver  river  a  night  boat  throwing 
a  powerful  search  light  on  the  dark  shores  of  the 
stream. 

When  it  was  dawn  I  walked  on.  I  could  not  but 
compare  the  humane  expression  of  Bear  Mountain, 
and  the  State  of  New  York,  to  that  little  republic 
of  Switzerland,  whose  labor  colonies  cannot  be 


200  "BROKE" 

differentiated  from  the  surrounding  rural  country. 
The  traveler  who  enters  or  passes  that  way  sees 
no  mark  of  his  erring  brethren,  no  sign  to  tell  the 
traveler  he  may  be  shot! 

It  was  Sunday  morning  when  I  reached  New- 
burgh,  a  city  of  thirty  thousand  people.  I  strolled 
up  the  hill  to  the  low-roofed  house  where  Washing- 
ton and  his  wife  lived  from  April  4,  1782,  to  Au- 
gust 18,  1783.  It  is  now  used  as  a  museum  for 
Washington  relics.  "  This,"  I  thought,  "  is  no 
doubt  of  exceeding  interest,  and  educational.  I 
will  go  in."  But  being  the  Sabbath  day,  it  was 
closed. 

I  had  not  heard  from  home  or  friends  for  a  long 
time.  I  was  getting  hungry  and  had  spent  all  of 
my  money,  but  I  knew  there  were  letters  and  relief 
at  the  Post  Office,  so  I  made  my  way  there.  Being 
Sunday  the  Post  Office  was  also  closed.  I  did 
not  wish  to  while  away  the  time  in  a  close,  op- 
pressive, ill-smelling  back  room  of  a  saloon,  or  sit 
in  the  shadow  somewhere  on  the  street,  even  if  the 
police  did  not  interfere,  but  having  a  desire  to 
read  a  good  book,  I  hunted  up  the  Public  Library. 
That,  too,  was  closed.  In  fact  the  only  things  I 
found  open  on  this  Lord's  Day  in  Newburgh  were 
the  streets,  the  saloons,  the  churches  and  the  jail. 

During  the  week  or  ten  days  I  was  in  the  vicinity 
of  Newburgh  I  read  in  the  daily  papers  "the  story 
of  three  starving  men  who  had  been  picked  up  by 
the  police.  Two  I  particularly  recall.  One  was 


NEW  YORK— THE   OPEN   FIELDS      201 

found  unconscious  on  the  car  tracks  on  which  he 
had  thrown  himself,  soaked  to  the  skin,  in  a  cold, 
terrific  rain  storm.  The  other  was  found  eating 
swill  from  a  garbage  can  in  an  alley.  Both  were 
thought  to  be  mentally  unsound.  That  is  always 
the  police  report  when  these  examples  insult  the 
intelligence  of  a  city.  Perhaps  they  were  men- 
tally unsound.  Why  not?  Nothing  will  dethrone 
reason  more  quickly  than  starvation  and  neglect. 
They  were  ~berry  pickers,  the  paper  said. 

The  church  bells  were  ringing.  I  looked  down 
at  my  soiled  appearance  and  thought,  "  If  I  only 
had  an  opportunity  to  renovate,  to  regenerate,  I 
could  attend  divine  services."  But  there  was  no 
available  place  for  the  poor,  the  moneyless  man  or 
woman  of  Newburgh,  to  bathe  but  the  river.  I 
looked  in  my  bundle  and  found  a  piece  of  washing 
soap.  I  would  first  wash  my  blue  shirt,  and  while 
I  bathed  it  could  be  drying  in  the  sun.  So  I  went 
to  the  river  where  many  of  Newburgh's  destitute 
and  needy  were  already  bathing,  but  the  sewerage 
had  so  contaminated  the  water  as  to  make  it  re- 
pulsive, and  I  felt  that  to  bathe  in  there  "  the  last 
man  would  be  worse  than  the  first."  Then  I  tried 
to  overcome  my  prejudice  against  going  to  church 
just  as  I  was.  I  could  slip  into  a  dark  corner  and 
scarcely  be  noticed.  Being  penniless  I  would  of 
course  be  humiliated  when  the  contribution  plate 
was  passed.  I  would,  perhaps,  be  regarded  as  a 
dead-beat,  but  what  of  that?  It  would  only  be  a 


202  "BROKE" 

moment.  Finally  I  decided  to  go.  I  walked  to 
one  of  Newburgh's  large  churches,  up  a  cool  and 
shady  street.  I  was  early.  The  silence  of  the 
lofty  edifice,  with  costly,  beautiful,  memorial  win- 
dows to  those  who  had  gone  to  their  rest,  gave  me 
food  for  thought  long  before  the  service  began.  It 
was  a  strange  coincidence  that  the  scriptural  read- 
ing included  the  following  words :  "  For  I  was  hun- 
gered, and  ye  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye 
gave  me  drink;  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me 
in;  naked  and  ye  clothed  me;  I  was  sick,  and  ye 
visited  me;  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto 
me."  The  text  was,  "  Go  and  sell  that  thou  hast, 
and  give  to  the  poor"  I  sat  through  the  service 
undisturbed. 

After  a  few  days  of  rest  I  started  out  again  to 
keep  in  touch  with  my  unfortunate  brothers  from 
the  highways  and  byways. 

I  went  in  search  of  work  to  the  berry  fields. 
Work  is  supposed  to  be  the  ready  collateral  for 
self-preservation  and  maintenance,  but  during  a 
two-mile  walk  I  stopped  at  the  door  of  many  beauti- 
ful and  comfortable  homes  and  asked  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  working  for  even  a  piece  of  bread  and  a 
cup  of  coffee.  To  see  the  owner  or  lady  of  the 
house,  was  out  of  the  question.  I  only  came  in 
contact  with  the  servants,  and  in  every  instance 
I  was  peremptorily  denied.  One  or  two  said,  "  I 
would  give  you  a  little  if  I  could,  but  I  am  not  al- 


NEW  YORK— THE  OPEN  FIELDS     203 

lowed  to  do  so."  The  servant  is  the  echo  of  the 
house. 

Finally,  a  little  way  in  from  the  road,  on  a  small 
beautiful  lawn,  I  saw  a  sweet-faced,  white-haired 
lady  superintending  a  bright  lad  of  sixteen  who 
was  making  a  flower  bed.  I  entered  and  tried  to 
make  a  polite  salutation  but  it  was  something  of  a 
failure  as  my  slouch  hat  had  slipped  down  and 
stuck  on  my  ear.  However,  I  said: 

"  I  will  work  an  hour  for  you  for  a  piece  of  bread 
and  a  cup  of  coffee." 

The  lady  inquired  with  interest,  "  Would  you 
work  for  an  hour  for  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  piece  of 
bread?  Well,  if  you  will  help  this  boy  for  an 
hour,  I  will  give  you  a  good  breakfast."  I  readily 
assented.  The  task  finished,  and  the  breakfast  as 
well,  the  lady  assured  me  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
garden  and  other  work  to  be  done  there.  If  1 

would  wait  until  the  return  of  Mr. ,  which 

would  be  soon,  he  would  probably  give  me  work  as 
long  as  I  wished  to  remain. 

I  had  learned  from  the  boy  that  the  latter  was  a 
rich  dominie  of  the  neat  little  Episcopal  chapel 
Just  at  hand,  which  he  owned,  and  that  I  was  work- 
ing at  the  rectory.  He  soon  came.  After  a  brief 
external  examination  he  asked  the  question,  "  Why 
are  you  a  hobo?  " 

I  replied  in  one  word,  "  Circumstances." 

Apparently  satisfied,  he  said,  "  What  wages  do 


204  "BKOKE" 

you  want?  "  I  explained  that  I  understood  gar- 
den work,  that  I  was  a  conscientious  wrorker,  and 
if  I  worked  steadily  ten  long  hours  a  day  it  ought 
to  be  worth  one  dollar  a  day  and  board.  The  gen- 
tleman thought  not.  He  thought  five  dollars  a 
week  would  be  a  square  deal.  The  lady,  near  and 
interested,  said  that  a  man  had  come  along  the  day 
before  and  offered  to  work  for  four  dollars  a  week. 

Having  discovered  I  was  a  few  days  in  advance 
of  the  berry  picking  season,  after  a  moment's  re- 
flection I  told  the  gentleman  I  would  try  the  gar- 
den work  at  his  offer. 

One  half  of  the  garden,  a  very  large  one,  was 
clean  and  growing.  The  other  half  was  choked 
with  weeds,  and  in  a  very  troublesome  condition. 
I  exceedingly  enjoyed  my  garden  work.  When  I 
was  hired  (although  the  house  contained,  I  should 
judge,  at  least  fifteen  rooms)  I  was  told  that  there 
was  no  place  in  the  house  for  me  to  sleep.  I  met 
this  by  saying  that  I  could  sleep  any  place,  so  I 
was  given  two  comforters  and  left  to  seek  my  own 
bed,  which  I  found  on  a  pallet  of  hay  over  the 
stable.  However,  I  was  very  comfortable  except 
for  feeling  the  need  of  a  pillow.  In  wakeful  mo- 
ments during  the  silent  night  I  could  hear  the 
beautiful  Arabian  horse,  John,  champing  his  fra- 
grant hay,  and  I  would  sometimes  call  down, 
"  Hello,  John!  How  are  you?  "  Several  times  he 
answered  with  a  low  whinny,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  All  right.  How  are  you  ?  " 


NEW   YORK— THE  OPEN   FIELDS      205 

I  dined  with  the  cook  and  the  work  boy  in  the 
kitchen.  We  had  all  we  could  eat  and  it  was  good. 
No  one  worked  on  the  Sabbath  but  the  old  cook. 
We  all  went  to  church  except  her.  The  dominie 
asked  me  to  attend.  I  slipped  in  on  a  rear  seat. 
The  sermon  was  on  the  building  of  character.  The 
good  lady,  seeing  me,  came  back  and  offered  me  a 
hymn  book.  A  pillow  offered  with  the  comforters 
would  have  held  a  greater  meaning,  but  I  am  sure 
that  the  thoughtlessness  of  this  kind  lady  was  not 
intentional.  I  am  sure  I  could  have  had  the  pil- 
low if  I  had  asked  for  it. 

During  my  short  stay  at  the  Rectory  many  desti- 
tute men  came  to  the  door  and  asked  for  food.  I 
noticed  they  were  never  turned  away  if  they  were 
willing  to  work  an  hour  for  it,  but  I  noticed,  also, 
that  the  man  was  asked  to  perform  his  work  before 
he  was  fed.  The  good  dominie  and  I  often  ex- 
changed thoughts.  He  had  a  pleasing  way  of 
making  his  help  feel  that  they  were  his  equals.  He 
may  not  have  realized  it,  but  unconsciously  he  was 
building  character  in  a  much  more  effective  way 
than  if  he  had  put  it  into  words. 

I  finally  wished  to  leave.  The  dominie  wanted 
me  very  much  to  remain.  He  said  I  was  worth  it, 
and  he  would  give  me  the  one  dollar  a  day.  The 
rains,  I  learned,  were  still  delaying  the  fruit  pick- 
ing, so  I  decided  to  remain  a  while  longer.  When 
at  last  I  left  and  was  paid  for  my  work,  I  said,  "  If 
I  was  worth  at  the  rate  of  one  dollar  a  day  for  these 


206  "BKOKE" 

last  few  days,  was  I  not  worth  the  same  for  all  my 
work?" 

"  Oh,  but  that  was  not  our  bargain,"  he  replied, 
—  which,  of  course,  was  true. 

One  day  in  one  of  our  brief  talks  (which  turned 
on  the  hungry  man  at  the  door),  I  said,  "  Doctor, 
from  a  business  point  of  view,  I  think  you  make  a 
mistake  in  asking  a  man  to  work  before  he  is  fed. 
A  man  with  a  full  stomach  can  do  twice  as  much 
work  as  one  with  an  empty  stomach." 

"  But  the  man  may  not  keep  his  part  of  the  con- 
tract," he  answered. 

"  Then  that  is  his  disgrace  and  your  misfortune. 
You  have  done  your  part.  You  have  entertained 
the  stranger  in  a  humane  way.  By  working  him 
first  is  showing  him  your  mistrust  of  him  and  that 
is  demoralizing." 

I  noticed  after  this  little  talk  that  the  man  who 
came  to  the  door  was  always  fed  first. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  LABORER  THE  FARMER'S  GREATEST  ASSET 

"  Letting  down  "buckets  into  empty  wells  and  growing  old  with 
drawing  nothing  up" — COWPEE. 

LEAVING  the  Rectory  I  found  myself  on  the 
highway,   seeking   a   fortune   as   a  berry 
picker.     I  heard  rumors  that  men  had  ac- 
tually made  a  stake  at  the  work, —  that  is,  enough 
money  (by  rigid  economy)  to  exist  in  the  destruc- 
tive slums  of  a  great  city  during  the  freezing  win- 
ter months  when  there  is  no  work  to  be  had. 

The  roads  were  lined  with  men  and  boys  seeking 
work.  The  long  drought  had  been  exceedingly 
detrimental  to  the  fruit.  It  was  dwarfed  and  of 
inferior  quality,  which  worked  a  hardship  on  the 
farmer  as  well  as  on  the  berry  pickers.  The  farms 
and  farm  houses  were  exceptionally  attractive,  and 
seemed  to  abound  with  comforts.  Many  of  them 
were  homes  of  wealth  and  resembled  country  seats. 
The  day  was  frightfully  hot.  There  had  been  a 
terrific  thunder  storm  the  night  before  and  I  was 
obliged  to  seek  shelter  for  the  night  with  a  number 
of  others  in  a  shed.  It  was  a  sleepless  night  for 

207 


208  "BROKE" 

the  rain  came  in  and  prevented  us  from  even  try- 
ing to  rest  on  the  bare  ground. 

As  I  walked  along  the  new  State  road,  I  came  to 
an  inviting  shady  spot  by  the  roadside,  near  a  deep 
hedge.  Almost  overcome  by  the  heat  and  weary 
from  lack  of  rest  and  sleep,  I  lay  down  with  my 
bundle  for  a  pillow  and  was  just  falling  asleep 
when  I  was  suddenly  aroused  by  a  voice  command- 
ing me  to  move  on.  Looking  up  I  saw  I  was  being 
accosted  by  a  big  six-foot  bully.  In  reply  to  my 
question,  "Why?"  he  answered,  "It  makes  no 
difference  why,  move  on." 

Looking  the  man  unflinchingly  in  the  eye,  I 
said, 

"  But  it  does  make  a  difference  why,  and  I  will 
pretty  quickly  find  out  why  a  man,  simply  because 
he  is  poor  and  wants  to  rest  on  the  side  of  the 
State  road,  is  denied  that  privilege." 

The  insolent  swaggerer  was  nonplussed  for  the 
moment.  I  suppose  he  thought  I  was  only  a  poor, 
starving  berry  picker  or  farm  hand  who,  at  his 
command,  would  cringingly  creep  on  in  the  boil- 
ing sun,  like  a  dog,  to  another  shady  spot. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  then  asked. 

"  I  am  a  laborer  looking  for  work,"  I  replied, 
"but  I  am  also  an  American.  When  I  am  inso- 
lently ordered  to  t  move  on '  on  a  public  highway, 
I'll  know  the  reason  why  if  I  have  to  go  to  Wash- 
ington to  find  out.  I  know  your  actions  have  been 
tolerated  in  England  and  Europe  for  two  thous- 


FARMER'S  GREATEST  ASSET     209 

and  years.  Since  you  ask  me  who  I  am,  I  am 
going  to  ask  who  you  are." 

"  I  am  foreman  of  this  estate,"  he  answered. 
"  This  is  the  country  estate  of  a  very  rich  ex- 
United  States  Congressman,  and  the  State  road  line 
runs  within  six  feet  of  the  hedge." 

"  Well,  sir,"  I  replied,  "  I  humbly  beg  your  par- 
don. It  is  a  principle  of  mine  never  to  ask  or  take 
something  for  nothing,  unless  it  be  to  draw  divi- 
dends on  a  few  blocks  of  nine  billion  dollars  of 
watered  railroad  stock.  But  say,  if  you  would 
wall  this  little  six-foot  strip  in,  or  put  up  a  sign, 
'  No  trespassing/  or  '  Beware  of  the  dog,'  as  others 
have  done,  neither  your  master  nor  yourself  would 
have  further  cause  to  growl." 

As  I  wandered  on  I  overtook  an  honest-looking 
man  who  said  he  was  on  his  way  to  a  farm  near 
Marlborough  where  he  had  worked  for  several  sum- 
mers and  had  always  pulled  out  with  enough  money 
to  carry  him,  in  a  way,  through  the  winter.  It 
would  have  been  much  nearer  for  him  to  have 
walked  the  railroad  track,  he  said,  but  he  was  told 
in  Newburgh  that  if  he  did  so  he  was  liable  to  be 
arrested  by  the  West  Shore  Railroad  Company. 
They  had  arrested  a  hundred  and  thirty-eight 
wandering  men  at  Kingston  the  day  before  and  put 
them  in  jail,  and  so  he  thought  it  best  to  follow  the 
country  road. 

A  little  farther  on,  near  some  great  elm  trees, 
stood  an  old  stone  house.  From  the  gilded  signs 


210  "BROKE" 

and  the  many  beer  kegs  in  evidence,  I  saw  at  once 
it  was  another  one  of  the  roadside  lamps  of  ruin. 
Many  men  seemed  to  have  gathered  in  and  about 
the  place  and  without  disturbance  were  resting  be- 
neath the  trees.  I  joined  them  and  just  as  I  did 
so  a  farmer  drove  up  in  an  automobile  looking  for 
help.  Before  he  had  spoken,  I  asked,  "  Do  you 
want  help?" 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so,"  he  answered.  "  The 
farmers  are  all  clamoring  for  men,  and  are  wonder- 
ing where  the  temporary  farm  hands  are  this 
year." 

I  suggested  he  might  find  a  few  of  them  in  the 
Kingston  jail.  He  said  that  because  of  the  recent 
rains  the  fruit  was  ripening  so  rapidly  that  it  was 
decaying  on  the  vines  for  the  need  of  being 
gathered.  Considering  that  the  earnings  of  the 
railroad  company  were  augmented  by  the  fruit 
shipments  he  granted  that  a  little  persuasive  argu- 
ment with  the  latter  might  be  of  help.  But  did  I 
want  work,  and  would  I  work  for  him?  I  certainly 
would. 

"What  do  you  pay?"  I  asked. 

"A  cent  and  a  half  a  box  for  strawberries, — 
that  is,  if  you  will  stay  the  season.  If  not,  I  will 
only  pay  one  cent  a  box."  The  reason  for  this  I 
found  was  that  at  the  last  gathering  of  a  crop 
the  fruit  is  light  and  the  pickers  cannot  make 
nearly  as  much  as  in  the  beginning,  and  becoming 
discouraged,  will  quit.  No  matter  if  the  farmer 


FARMER'S  GREATEST  ASSET     211 

receives  ten  or  thirty  cents  a  box  for  his  fruit,  the 
picker  receives  no  better  wage. 

"  You  will  board  me,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  board  yourself.  We  have  a  good 
bunkhouse  where  you  can  sleep." 

"  But  I  have  no  money.  How  will  I  get  me  some- 
thing to  eat?  " 

"  I  will  pay  you  every  night  at  the  rate  of  one 
cent  if  you  want  it." 

"  But  I  have  no  money  at  all.  What  will  I  do 
for  supper  and  breakfast?" 

"  Tell  any  of  the  grocers  in  Middlehope  that  you 
are  going  to  work  for  me  and  they  will  trust  you. 
You  can  come  to  my  place  and  sleep  to-night,  so 
that  you  can  begin  work  in  the  morning." 

Passing  on  to  the  vilage,  I  asked  one  of  the  mer- 
chants if  he  would  trust  me  for  a  bill  of  edibles 
until  the  following  evening.  He  looked  at  me  hesi- 
tatingly. He  had  been  deceived  and  that  made 
him  cautious.  When  saying  that  I  only  wanted 
a  little,  he  consented  and  gave  me  the  following 
bill:  bacon,  five  cents,  bread,  five  cents,  coffee, 
five  cents,  can  of  corn,  ten  cents,  total  twenty-five 
cents. 

I  found  later  that  there  have  been  (and  are  still) 
thousands  of  instances  when  these  willing  workers 
have  been  denied  this  confidence  and  have  worked 
all  day  in  the  burning  sun  without  supper,  break- 
fast and  dinner. 

Reaching  the  farm  I  was  not  shown  where  to  go 


212  "BROKE" 

to  sleep.  I  was  told  to  go  to  the  Imnkhouse.  I 
found  a  number  of  men  already  there  with  an  im , 
provised  stove  of  rock  and  available  sticks  for  fuel. 
With  the  aid  of  my  willing  contemporaries  I 
managed  to  prepare  and  eat  my  supper.  There 
was  a  promiscuous  pile  of  filthy  blankets  to  choose 
from  for  a  bed.  I  went  to  the  stable  for  straw  on 
which  to  spread  them,  and  as  I  picked  up  one  pair 
of  blankets,  a  man  who  had  been  there  for  some 
time  said, 

"  I  wouldn't  use  those  blankets.  A  sick  man  oc- 
cupied them  last." 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  him?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  he  was  pretty  sick."  Finally 
choosing  a  pair  of  blankets  which  had  the  appear- 
ance of  being  a  degree  more  wholesome  than  the 
others  (and  with  at  least  a  clean  reputation),  we 
laid  down.  In  a  short  time,  we  discovered  the 
place  was  literally  alive  with  night  prowlers,  which 
drove  us  all  out  under  the  trees.  This  was  prefer- 
able as  long  as  it  continued  dry  and  warm,  but  at 
two  A.  M.  a  rain  storm  forced  us  back  into  the 
shack. 

The  next  day  I  put  in  ten  long  hours  picking  ber- 
ries. When  I  checked  up  I  had  earned  just  50 
cents  —  just  enough  to  pay  my  store  bill  and  buy 
another  meager  day's  rations.  I  tried  the  cher- 
ries, the  raspberries  and  the  gooseberries,  but  could 
do  no  better.  I  discovered  that  the  pickers,  no 
matter  how  clever  they  might  be,  did  not,  or  could 


FARMER'S  GREATEST  ASSET      213 

not,  average  over  fifty  cents  a  day,  which,  if  they 
had  spent  it  all  for  food,  would  only  have  been  suf- 
ficient to  purchase  about  two-thirds  as  much  as 
they  would  have  eaten  if  they  had  had  enough. 
For  other  farm  work  the  pay  was  one  dollar,  or 
one  and  a  quarter  dollars  per  day  without  board. 
With  a  few  exceptions  board  was  given  with  the 
one  dollar.  It  was  extremely  difficult  to  get  other 
farm  work  in  berry  picking  season.  However,  I 
myself  was  offered  by  an  old  farmer  one  dollar  a 
day  and  board,  to  hoe  corn. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday.  Could  I  work  on 
Sunday?  Being  good  Irish  church  people,  they 
had  been  taught  to  remember  the  Sabbath  day  and 
keep  it  holy.  The  old  gentleman  hesitated  slightly 
but  yielded  finally  when  I  told  him  I  needed  the 
money.  Then,  too,  I  was  in  much  better  company 
working  by  myself  in  the  field  than  sitting  around 
the  village.  He  would  see  what  the  old  lady  would 
say  about  it. 

The  old  lady  had  been  suffering  with  the  tooth- 
ache for  the  past  two  days  and  had  tried  every- 
thing from  ice  down  her  back  to  boiling  water, 
when  an  old  woman  driving  by  suggested  filling 
the  cavity  of  the  tooth  with  fine-cut  tobacco.  This 
she  declared  to  be  a  never-failing  cure.  The  old 
lady  tried  it,  but  had  swallowed  the  tobacco, 
and  no  mortal,  she  declared,  ever  before  passed 
through  such  a  sickness  and  survived!  Conse- 
quently life  just  then  seemed  very  uncertain,  and 


214  "BROKE" 

this  caused,  on  her  part,  a  deep  reflection  on  the 
subject  of  being  very  good.  But  finally  she 
thought  it  would  be  all  right  for  me  to  hoe  on  the 
Sabbath  day,  providing  I  did  my  hoeing  down  in 
the  woodlot,  instead  of  in  the  open  field  on  the 
hill. 

It  was  pitiful  to  see  these  workers,  after  a  hard 
day's  work,  walk  several  miles  to  the  village  store 
with  their  few  cents  to  buy  their  suppers,  know- 
ing that  they  must  walk  back  before  they  could 
cook  and  eat  it.  Even  though  a  man  were  not  a 
drunkard,  do  you  wonder  that  he  would  spend  a 
portion  of  that  day's  pitiful  wage  for  stimulant 
to  create  enough  force  to  get  back  to  his  camp? 
All  of  the  country  merchants  had  coffee,  tea  and 
sugar  done  up  in  five-cent  packages  ready  to  hand 
out.  They  had  many  customers  for  such  quanti- 
ties. 

One  day,  during  my  short  investigation  among 
these,  a  man  was  found  dead  in  a  barn,  where  he 
had  crawled  to  rest.  Was  it  any  wonder?  He 
had  in  his  possession  only  a  few  cents  and  a  little 
package  of  groceries.  Is  it  any  marvel  that  an- 
other man  was  found  dead,  hanging  in  an  orchard, 
or  that  another  was  killed  by  an  automobile,  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night?  Seventy-five  per  cent  of 
these  workers  were  old  men  or  men  beyond  middle 
life.  They  were  men  of  all  sorts  of  trades,  as  well 
as  the  unskilled.  A  great  many  were  physically 
infirm,  which  disabled  them  from  following  either 


FARMER'S  GREATEST  ASSET     215 

their  own  trade  or  the  more  arduous  work  of  the 
common  laborer. 

I  heard  during  the  time  I  was  among  these  toil- 
ers, the  wish  expressed  many  times  by  them  that 
they,  too,  could  own  a  garden  tract,  a  bit  of  land 
that  they  could  cultivate,  a  place,  however  humble, 
that  they  could  call  home.  No;  men  do  not,  as 
many  will  tell  you,  seek  the  open  fields  to  be  evil, 
but  to  shun  evil. 

There  exists  to-day  in  many  of  the  villages, 
towns  and  cities  of  New  York,  the  rule  to  grant 
to  the  police,  marshal,  or  constable,  as  a  perquisite 
to  his  office,  money  for  every  arrest  he  makes.  In 
Milton  I  was  told  by  one  of  its  citizens  that  the 
fee  was  one  dollar.  Consequently  they  are  on  the 
lookout  for  poor,  unfortunate  workingmen.  When 
they  find  one  he  is  thrown  into  a  dark  hole  of 
their  city  jail  or  lockup.  In  one  of  these  villages, 
this  wretched  place  of  detention  was  partially  filled 
with  water  when  the  men  were  put  in.  No  matter 
how  prosperous  the  aspect  of  his  farm,  the  farmer 
will  tell  you  of  the  vicissitudes  he  must  continually 
encounter  before  his  crop  is  gathered  and  sold,  that 
many  of  the  farms  are  carrying  a  heavy  mortgage 
witli  an  excessive  rate  of  interest  which  they  can 
not  pay  off,  but  can  only  succeed  in  living  and  pay- 
ing the  usury, —  that  he  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  mid- 
dle man  (the  commission  man)  and,  above  all  else, 
what  a  time  he  has  with  his  help,  so  hard  to  get, 
so  unreliable  when  he  does  get  it.  If  this  is  all 


216  "BROKE" 

true,  do  you  wonder  at  it?  Why,  the  horse,  the 
cow  and  the  hogs  on  these  farms  are  better  treated 
than  their  help!  The  animal  must  be  well  fed, 
housed  comfortably  and  kept  in  good  health  to  be 
profitable.  If  these  farmers  would  institute  some 
kind  of  a  recall  which  would  rid  them  of  the  code 
of  ethics  now  practiced  among  them,  or  which 
would  force  them  to  practice  brotherly  love,  kind- 
ness and  justice;  if  they  would  create  a  new  reli- 
gion that  will  abolish  the  death-dealing,  demoral- 
izing, destructive  influences  which  exist  among 
them  now;  if  they  will  cease  being  thoughtless; 
if  they  will  begin  to  think, —  then  the  weather  will 
have  lost  much  of  its  terror.  The  mortgage  will 
be  more  easily  raised.  The  faults  of  the  commis- 
sion man  may  be  overcome  and  the  unpleasant 
specter  of  quantity  and  quality  of  help  will  vanish. 
Labor  is  the  corner-stone  to  the  foundation  of  the 
edifice  of  prosperity.  It  is  left  to  the  farmer  to 
make  his  way  easy,  his  burden  light. 

Yet  some  who  live  in  palaces,  and  many  bold 
charlatans  of  trade  who  use  the  name  of  philan- 
thropy to  guild  their  shady  ways,  will  still  cry, 
"Why  don't  the  out-of-work  man  help  the  farmer? 
Why  don't  they  go  onto  the  land?  "  They  certainly 
do  not  mean  in  the  domain  of  the  Hudson. 

In  talking  with  an  editor,  I  once  advanced  the 
thought  of  the  advantage  of  cultivating  every  acre 
of  the  ground  from  New  York  to  Albany.  The 


FARMER'S  GREATEST  ASSET     217 

astonished  editor  replied,  "  Why,  would  you  de- 
stroy the  scenery  of  our  American  Rhine?  " 

Destroy  the  scenery!  I  could  not  but  ask,  sur- 
prisedly,  "What  is  more  beautiful  than  a  culti- 
vated vineyard,  or  a  farm  supporting  an  American 
home?  "  But  this  was  what  the  search  light  re- 
vealed. The  great  estates  of  the  greatest  finan- 
ciers in  the  world ;  the  palaces  of  wealthy  brewers ; 
the  castles  of  whiskey  distillers;  monasteries  of 
the  Church  of  England ;  Roman  Catholic  convents ; 
orphans'  homes,  reformatories  for  white  slaves, 
States  prisons,  criminal  insane  asylums;  United 
States  War  Schools;  government  store-houses  for 
high  explosives;  miles  of  unsightly  brick-yards  (of 
the  Brick  Trust) ;  acres  of  decaying  old  frame 
shacks;  ice-houses  (of  the  Ice  Trust;)  signs, 
"  Don't  trespass  "  and  "  Beware  of  the  dog  " —  and 
hundreds  of  hungry,  starving  men. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
ALBANY  —  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  THE  FIGHT 

"As  long  as  any  man  exists  there  is  some  need  of  him.  Let 
him  fight  for  his  own." — EMEBSON. 

BETWEEN  the  hours  of  ten  p.  M.  and  mid- 
night the  next  evening,  I  found  myself 
(with  another  down-and-out  worker)  sit- 
ting in  the  smoking-room  of  the  Albany  depot. 
My  momentary  acquaintance  was  an  Irishman. 
Presently  another  young  fellow,  whose  appearance 
was  indicative  of  having  recently  put  off  a  good 
many  meals,  came  in  and  sat  down  near  us.  The 
Irishman  looked  squarely  and  inquisitively  at  the 
new-comer  (who  was  an  Irish-American),  and  re- 
cognizing by  some  mutual  instinct  that  he  be- 
longed to  the  army  who  must  work  and  wander, 
abruptly  said:  "Who  are  you?" 

"  I  am  a  tramp,"  the  young  fellow  replied. 

"  Then,  I  suppose,"  continued  the  Irishman,  "  you 
have  been  in  every  State  in  the  Union." 

"  Yes,  every  State,"  answered  the  young  fellow. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Irishman,  "  I'll  bet  you  have 
never  been  in  the  state  of  matrimony." 

218 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  THE   FIGHT      219 

"  Yes,"  quickly  answered  the  man,  "  /  have  been 
in  Utah,  too." 

"  How  about  the  state  of  intoxication  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  the  State  of  New  York,  or  a  per- 
sonal experience  with  John  Barleycorn?  If  you 
mean  the  latter,  I  can  honestly  say,  I  have  never 
been  drunk." 

Thus  we  laughed  and  joked  and  then  talked 
seriously  for  an  extended  time.  These  two  men 
were  on  their  way  to  the  hop  fields  of  New  York  for 
work.  The  younger  of  the  two,  when  he  had 
reached  the  age  to  fully  comprehend,  found  himself 
in  an  Orphan  Asylum.  At  fourteen  he  had  been 
given  to  a  farmer  for  whom  he  did  the  work  of  a 
man.  When  he  was  sixteen  the  family  was  broken 
up  and  the  farm  sold.  He  had  been  taught  no 
trade  and  had  received  very  little  book  knowledge. 
With  the  non-existence  of  this  farm  home,  he  be- 
came (to  use  the  soubriquet  of  disrespect  which  is 
often  put  upon  the  forced  migratory  wage-slave) 
a  floater. 

There  were  only  a  few  men  in  the  smoking-room. 
Weary,  almost  beyond  endurance,  we  lay  down  on 
the  empty  seats  and  fell  asleep.  Suddenly  we 
were  awakened  by  a  depot  official  saying,  "  This  is 
no  lodging  house."  We  were  roughly  asked  many 
questions, —  who  we  were,  where  we  were  going, 
whether  we  had  a  ticket  or  the  price  of  a  ticket. 
When  our  answers  proved  unsatisfactory  we  were 
violently  thrust  into  the  street.  I  wondered  at  the 


220  "BROKE" 

time  why  we  were  not  jailed,  but  I  soon  learned 
that  their  local  prisons  were  full,  and  that  the  fact 
that  they  knew  we  had  no  money  was  a  good 
reason, —  in  fact  our  protection  from  arrest. 

Undaunted,  I  stepped  up  to  a  policeman  who  was 
standing  a  little  way  off  talking  to  a  man,  and 
asked  him  for  Albany's  Municipal  Emergency 
Home.  This  officer,  surprised  at  my  question, 
hesitated  to  answer.  The  man  to  whom  he  was 
talking,  said,  "  Go  to  the  Baptist  Home.  Tell 
them  you  are  penniless  and  they  will  take  care  of 
you.  Here  is  my  card.  The  address  is  on  it." 

We  went  to  the  home  but  found  it  closed  and 
dark.  To  our  ringing  and  knocking  there  was  no 
response.  I  learned  afterwards  that  even  if  the  in- 
stitution had  been  open,  we  would  have  found  no 
welcome  as  it  was  house-cleaning  time.  We  next 
sought  out  the  Salvation  Army.  It  was  not  house- 
cleaning  time  with  them  but  the  place  was  much 
darker,  more  securely  sealed  against  the  homeless, 
hopeless  wayfarer,  than  the  Baptist  Home. 

A  man  on  the  street  gave  the  two  hop  pickers  the 
price  of  a  supper,  a  breakfast  and  a  place  to  rest, 
and  very  soon  I  was  curled  down  on  the  cushions  of 
an  early  morning  train,  riding  the  velvet  into 
Rochester. 

When,  on  this  early  Fall  morning,  I  reached 
Rochester  it  was  again  God's  day  of  rest.  A  num- 
ber of  workingmen  were  grouped  a  little  way  down 
the  street,  and  with  assumed  indifference  I  joined 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  THE   FIGHT      221 

them.  Their  conversation  was  on  the  possibility 
of  getting  work.  All  of  them  seemed  to  be  idle. 
There  was  no  prospect  in  sight  in  the  city,  and  they 
had  decided  to  go  into  the  apple  orchards  of  the 
surrounding  country.  In  response  to  my  inquiry 
as  to  whether  there  was  any  public  place  where 
a  fellow  who  was  broke  could  get  a  meal  with  or 
without  working  for  it,  one  of  them  replied,  "  I, 
too,  am  up  against  it,  pal,  or  I  would  help  you. 
The  only  place  I  have  heard  of  is  the  Sunshine 
Rescue  Mission  on  Front  Street." 

I  walked  toward  the  Mission  and  as  I  went  I 
caught  sounds  of  a  drunken  brawl  in  a  saloon.  A 
little  farther  on  a  "  scarlet  girl "  with  a  sad  face 
tapped  on  the  window  and  smiled.  Just  as  I 
reached  Front  Street  the  police  wagon  came  hur- 
riedly dashing  down  the  street.  Three  stalwart 
members  of  the  police  force,  on  the  pay  roll  of  the 
city  of  Rochester,  got  out  of  the  wagon  when  it 
stopped  at  the  Mission.  I  thought  I  must  be  mis- 
taken in  the  place  and  that  it  was  a  police  station. 
But  no,  there  was  the  sign :  "  Sunshine  Rescue 
Mission."  The  officers  entered.  Brutally  and 
roughly  they  brought  out  two  men,  thrust  them 
into  the  wagon  and  took  them  off  to  the  prison. 
They  were  scarcely  out  of  sight  before  another 
policeman  came  down  the  street  with  another  man 
whom  he  hurried  into  the  Mission. 

From  the  time  I  entered  Rochester  until  I  left, 
I  saw  evidences  of  a  "vice  trust,"  the  depravity  of 


222  "BROKE" 

which  could  only  be  conjectured.  I  did  not  dare 
remain  there  for  I  trembled  at  the  thought  of  a 
homeless  man  asking  for  aid  in  that  institution 
of  a  "humane"  Christian  city.  I  hurriedly  left 
Rochester  for  here  more  than  any  place  that  I  had 
been  in  there  seemed  to  be  something  "  rotten  in 
Denmark." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CLEVELAND  —  THE  CRIME  OF  NEGLECT 

"  A  servant  grafted  in  my  serious  trust 
And  therefore  negligent." — SHAKESPEARE. 

THE  midnight  bell  was  striking.  The  great 
city  of  Cleveland  was  going  to  rest  as  I 
rode  to  my  hotel.  I,  too,  was  soon  resting, 
—  but  not  sleeping.  I  was  forming  a  resolution  to 
become  absolutely  indigent  for  an  extended  time. 
My  assumed  destitution  previously  had  been  of 
very  brief  periods,  always  having  money  at  my 
hotel  or  in  my  pockets  for  my  immediate  needs. 
"  What,"  I  reasoned,  "  does  the  man  wTho  at  any 
moment  can  place  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  se- 
cure relief  know  of  the  real  struggle  of  the  penni- 
less and  homeless  worker?" 

I  looked  myself  over.  I  was  healthy,  compara- 
tively strong.  I  had  no  trade,  yet  was  clever  at 
many  things.  I  was  honest,  sober,  willing,  indus- 
trious. So  I  entered,  with  an  iron-clad  resolve,  into 
a  mental  contract,  signing  and  sealing  it,  that  I 
would  go  penniless  to  Memphis,  Tenn.,  with  a  de- 
termination to  secure  work  on  the  government 

223 


224  "BROKE" 

works  on  the  Mississippi  river  for  the  winter.  For 
I  had  discovered  in  my  study  from  New  York  to 
Cleveland  many  moneyless  men  striving  to  reach 
these  government  works. 

I  would  not  steal,  nor  beat  a  railroad  train,  nor 
beg,  but  if  forced  to  do  so,  I  would  ask  succor  from 
those  institutions  which  stand,  ostensibly,  ready 
to  help  the  needy.  My  itinerary,  briefly  given, 
would  be,  Cleveland  to  Cincinnati,  Cincinnati  to 
Louisville,  Louisville  to  Memphis. 

The  next  morning,  after  sending  my  baggage  on 
to  Memphis  and  paying  my  hotel  bill,  I  was  com- 
pletely broke,  and  found  myself  on  the  streets  of 
Cleveland,  destitute,  looking  for  work.  I  strolled 
up  to  the  Public  Square  while  I  was  considering 
the  best  course  to  pursue.  I  had  pulled  on  my 
blue  jeans  over  a  pretty  good  business  suit,  for  my 
investigation  was  to  be  of  that  class  of  toilers  who 
must  work  with  their  hands  as  well  as  of  the  class 
that  does  those  things  we  faultily  regard  as  more 
polite  work.  Destitute,  homeless,  friendless,  I 
must  honorably  reach  the  government  works, — 
that  was  the  point  I  had  to  keep  ever  in  mind. 
My  first  thought  was  as  a  hopeful  medium  to  find 
work, —  the  newspapers.  Stepping  up  to  a  news- 
stand I  asked  for  a  paper,  and  thrust  my  hand 
deep  down  in  my  pocket  for  the  price.  Thus  it 
was  that  it  came  to  me  forcibly  for  the  first  time 
that  I  was  broke.  I  looked  at  the  news-vender 
as  he  handed  me  the  paper  and  said,  "  Never  mind, 


225 

old  man,  I  have  left  my  pocketbook  at  home." 
Then  I  remembered  I  had  a  postage  stamp  and 
thought  of  offering  that  in  exchange ;  but  I  remem- 
bered a  long  delayed  letter  which  must  be  sent 
home,  and  so  I  kept  the  stamp.  I  thought  of  the 
many  places  where  the  newspapers  were  on  file 
and  the  newspaper  offices. 

Just  as  I  entered  the  Square,  a  man  sitting  on  a 
bench  reading  a  morning  paper  left  abruptly,  leav- 
ing the  paper  behind.  I  made  a  dash  for  it  with 
a  half  dozen  other  jobless  men.  I  was  the  lucky 
one,  however.  Hurriedly  I  sought  the  want  col- 
umns. I  scanned  them  carefully  and  made  note 
of  those  things  I  knew  I  could  do.  I  also  made 
note  of  an  "  ad  "  reading :  "  Wanted,  fifty  supers 
at  the  Opera  House.  Apply  at  10  A.  M."  Hand- 
ing the  paper  to  the  other  boys,  I  left  quickly  on 
my  mission  for  work.  The  super's  job  I  kept  as 
a  last  resort,  if  all  others  failed.  All  others  did 
fail.  There  were  a  great  many  idle  men  and  boys 
in  Cleveland  at  that  time.  I  saw  the  importance 
of  being  early,  for  the  answer  invariably  was,  "  The 
place  is  filled  long  ago."  So  ten  o'clock  found  me 
at  the  stage  door  of  the  Opera  House  with  several 
hundred  others,  hanging  onto  the  hope  of  being  a 
favored  chosen  one.  I  knew  that  if  successful  I 
could  work  here  nights,  and  that  they  would  prob- 
ably pay  the  same  price  offered  in  Pittsburg. 
Through  the  day  I  could  do  something  else.  I 
would  therefore  earn  quickly  enough  to  buy  a  six- 


226  "BKOKE" 

dollar  ticket  to  Cincinnati  and  be  well  on  my  jour- 
ney to  the  government  works,  where,  from  all  I 
had  heard,  I  would  be  comfortably  located  for  the 
winter,  and  in  line  for  making  a  stake. 

The  manager  soon  appeared  and  began  rapidly 
to  choose  his  men.  We  discovered  we  were  to  bo 
millionaire  senators  in  a  great  political  play.  I 
noticed  I  was  being  intentionally  shunned,  and 
fearful  of  not  being  chosen,  I  remembered  my  good 
front  beneath  my  workingman's  garb.  I  stepped 
up  to  the  man  and  said,  "  I  have  better  clothes  than 
these.  I  can  make  an  appearance  for  the  part," 
whereupon  he  immediately  took  me.  Our  pay  was 
to  be  three  dollars  and  a  half  for  eight  perform- 
ances, covering  a  week, —  a  little  less  than  forty- 
four  cents  a  performance. 

Although  I  had  landed  a  job  I  was  no  better  off 
so  far  as  the  immediate  needs  for  existence  went. 
So  I  saw  that  I  must  be  active  in  order  to  cover  the 
vacancy  in  some  way.  Already  I  was  growing 
very  hungry. 

The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  ask  a  man  with  a  star 
for  the  Municipal  Emergency  Home.  He  looked 
at  me  with  a  contemptuous  smile,  and  seemed  to 
regard  me  as  one  just  dropped  out  of  Russia, 
China,  or  some  other  heathen  country.  At  last  he 
said :  "  There  is  nothing  like  that  here.  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing.  Did  you?  " 

No  one  will  ever  know  what  it  means  to  be  really 
hungry  until  he  is  broke.  There  seemed  no  other 


227 

way  for  me  to  win  a  dinner  other  than  to  ask  the 
various  restaurants  the  privilege  of  working  for 
it.  Of  the  great  number  to  which  I  applied,  the 
answer  was,  "  Nothing  doing."  At  last  the  pro- 
prietress of  one  restaurant  told  me  she  wanted 
some  one  very  badly  for  the  noon  hour  rush  to  wipe 
dishes,  and  in  return  for  the  work  would  gladly 
give  me  my  dinner.  I  readily  accepted  the  offer, 
and  was  soon  installed  in  the  small  kitchen  of  a 
very  large,  cheap  restaurant.  I  was  obliged  to 
stand  near  the  dishwasher  and  his  tubs,  hemmed  in 
by  a  very  narrow  space.  In  an  instant  the  rush 
was  on.  Everything  that  was  not  nailed  down  or 
stuck  to  the  wall  was  in  the  air.  The  busy  boys 
would  come  in  with  a  San  Juan  charge,  literally 
firing  the  dishes  into  the  big  wash  tub,  and  every 
time  they  did  so  I  received  a  shower-bath.  Now, 
I  would  not  have  objected  to  a  sprinkle  or  two,  but 
an  immersion  was  a  crime,  and  in  my  position  1 
could  neither  retreat  nor  advance.  The  old  lady 
appearing,  I  demanded  a  release,  declaring  our 
agreement  was  that  I  was  to  work  for  a  meal  and 
not  a  bath.  She  declared  the  hour  was  now  nearly 
up,  and  then,  too,  I  did  not  object  as  strenuously  as 
I  might  have  done,  if,  through  the  rain  and  the 
mist,  I  had  not  caught  sight  of  rows  of  pies,  cake, 
ice-cream  and  pudding.  Also,  perhaps  as  a  pana- 
cea to  my  hurt  feelings,  the  old  lady  (who  had  a 
bass  voice  and  weighed  about  three  hundred 
pounds)  threatened  to  put  a  few  of  the  reckless 


228  "BKOKE" 

flunkies  out  of  commission  if  they  did  not  exercise 
more  caution. 

True  to  her  word,  the  moment  the  hour  was  spent, 
I  was  asked  to  sit  down  to  a  banquet  on  the  end  of 
the  cook's  table,  and  the  order  issued  to  give  me  all 
the  corned  beef,  cabbage  and  boiled  potatoes  I 
wanted.  The  pie,  cake,  ice-cream  and  pudding  were 
not  on  the  dishwiper's  menu,  at  least  not  that  day, 
but  I  was  to  have  all  I  wanted  of  what  was  given 
me,  and  that  meant  a  great  deal.  Kegaining  the 
street,  I  felt  a  strong  desire  for  a  bath,  clothes  and 
all.  Again  approachng  another  appendix  to  the 
correctional  laws  of  Cleveland,  I  asked  for  the  free 
public  baths.  "Gad,"  he  said,  as  he  eyed  me 
closely,  "  how  many  baths  do  you  take  a  day?  "  He 
then  referred  me  to  Cleveland's  two  public  baths, 
which  were  so  far  out  that  he  advised  me  decidedly 
to  take  a  street  car. 

"  And  are  they  absolutely  free?  "  I  demanded. 

"  No,  one  will  cost  you  five  cents  and  the  other 
two." 

I  went  to  the  lake. 

In  my  little  bundle  I  carried  a  small  mirror,  a 
hairbrush,  a  piece  of  soap,  a  couple  of  white  collars 
and  a  towel.  Ye  gods,  what  a  bath  that  was !  The 
water  was  four  degrees  below  freezing.  However, 
I  soon  had  on  the  expression  of  the  United  States 
Senator  whom  I  was  to  impersonate  at  the  Opera 
House  that  night,  who  wouldn't  buy  a  vote,  no,  not 
if  he  died  for  it,  who  could  sit  in  the  four  o'clock 


THE  CRIME  OF  NEGLECT          229 

Y.  M.  C.  A.  Sunday  afternoon  meeting  with  a  face 
as  long  as  a  fiddle,  and  an  expression  that  to  the 
thought  of  a  jackpot  would  prove  fatal.  Not  one 
of  the  elite  in  the  great  audience  that  night  ever 
dreamed  of  the  battle  I  had  gone  through  that  day 
in  Cleveland  for  the  privilege  of  sitting  in  that  hon- 
ored seat! 

We  were  an  exceedingly  interesting  group  of  mil- 
lionaire senators,  for  three-fourths  of  us  were  broke. 
After  our  great  act,  I  timidly  approached  the  man- 
ager, and  asked  him  if  he  would  please  advance  me 
a  quarter  as  I  had  no  place  to  sleep  nor  the  money 
to  buy  a  place.  No,  he  could  not  think  of  doing  so. 
It  was  not  their  custom  to  pay  until  the  last  per- 
formance. An  old  "  senator  "  of  sixty-eight  years 
who  sat  next  to  me,  one  of  the  many  in  the  same 
plight  I  was  in,  was  waiting  to  learn  the  result  of 
my  plea. 

We  then  began  to  try  to  find  a  place  to  rest,  for 
that  we  must  have.  Our  act  was  not  over  until 
nearly  ten-thirty  o'clock,  compelling  us  to  be  out 
late.  My  brother  senator  knew  Cleveland  better 
than  I  did  and  proposed  going  fo  the  "  charity  " 
free  lodging  house  where  we  could  pay  by  sawing 
wood  an  hour  or  more  the  next  morning.  We  made 
our  way  to  the  old  rookery,  which  was  in  a  hole 
down  under  the  hill,  but  when  we  got  there  it  was 
closed  and  dark. 

I  then  proposed  the  police  station  or  the  jail.  He 
looked  at  me  in  astonishment  and  said,  "  Do  you 


230  "BROKE" 

think  I  would  go  there?  I'll  tell  you  where  we  can 
go.  I  slept  there  the  other  night,  and  —  well,  it 
might  have  been  worse.  It  is  on  the  floor  of  the 
High  Ball  Saloon  on  St.  Clair  Street.  There  is  no 
use  to  hurry,  as  we  can't  lie  down  until  twelve 
o'clock."  He  then  continued,  "  Let  us  find  some 
newspapers  to  lie  on."  So  as  we  walked  towards 
our  destination  we  searched  the  rubbish  boxes  on 
the  street  corners  for  paper  with  which  to  make  a 
bed.  Reaching  the  saloon,  we  stood  about  until 
midnight,  at  wrhich  time  the  lights  were  turned  low 
and  the  side  doors  locked.  Then  we  were  allowed 
to  lie  down.  We  each  had  two  newspapers  wrhich 
we  spread  under  us. 

After  a  moment  I  raised  up  and  counted  the  little 
army  of  bedless  men  who  were  obliged  to  seek  shel- 
ter there  that  night.  There  were  just  an  even  sixty 
lying  upon  the  floor,  and  this  number  was  aug- 
mented now  and  then  by  a  late  arrival  drifting  in. 
A  number  of  men  stood  at  the  bar,  or  lunch  stand, 
and  caroused  all  night.  One,  verging  on  delirium 
tremens,  had  a  prize  fight  with  a  stone  post.  While 
the  place  seemed  clean  and  the  floor  clean  for  a 
great,  cheap  saloon,  roaches  by  the  hundred  were 
scampering  all  about  us,  and  the  odor  from  a 
near-by  toilet  could  scarcely  be  endured.  In  a  calm 
moment  of  the  revelers,  just  as  I  felt  that  I  might 
drop  into  a  doze  (my  poor,  weary,  old  senator  was 
sleeping  through  it  all),  a  big  Dutchman,  whose 
bones  probably  ached  from  coming  in  contact  with 


THE  CRIME  OF  NEGLECT          231 

the  hard  floor,  raised  up  and  turned  over.  As  he 
did  so,  he  came  down  on  a  little  Irishman.  Jump- 
ing up,  he  slapped  the  Dutchman  in  the  face  and 
a  rough  house  was  in  order  for  an  extended  time. 
Occasionally  a  "  cop  "  or  a  plain-clothes  man  came 
in  and  looked  us  over.  For  me  to  try  to  sleep  was 
useless,  and  promptly  at  five  o'clock  the  order  was 
given  "  Every  man  up." 

My  political  colleague  and  I  strolled  confi- 
dentially up  an  alley  to  the  Public  Square.  Here 
was  located  a  beautiful  example  of  Cleveland's  hu- 
manity to  man  in  a  small,  yet  seemingly  perfect 
public  lavatory.  Every  man,  no  matter  how  soiled 
or  wretched,  was  given  a  towel  and  a  piece  of  soap 
to  cleanse  himself,  and  often  I  heard  someone  say, 
"  Tom  Johnson's  gift." 

Food  was  the  next  essential  to  our  good  behavior 
and  well-being.  My  associate  member  proposed  we 
try  the  "  Charity  "  Lodging  House  again,  which  we 
did.  Yes,  we  could  have  breakfast  if  we  would  saw 
and  split  wood  for  an  hour  or  more  first.  We 
would  certainly  do  so.  Imagine  the  state  we  were 
in  from  lack  of  food  and  sleep.  And  yet  this  home- 
less old  gentleman  —  and  he  was  a  gentleman  — 
was  eager  and  willing.  After  splitting  curly  birch 
for  over  an  hour,  we  were  told  to  come  to  breakfast. 
They  gave  us  weak  barley  soup,  poor  bread,  and  the 
same  old  "  charity  coffee."  The  staying  qualities 
of  that  breakfast  were  extremely  fleeting,  for  by  the 
time  we  had  climbed  the  hill  we  were  no  better  off 


232  "BROKE" 

in  regard  to  having  our  hunger  appeased  than  when 
we  went  in.  As  we  came  out  we  noticed  a  sign 
which  read,  as  I  remember  it,  to  this  effect :  "  Per- 
sons coming  here  a  second  time  must  be  expected  to 
take  orders  from  the  city."  Not  a  very  encouraging 
hope  for  the  man  who  was  broke  and  who  was  only 
earning  three-fifty  per  week,  which  he  would  not 
get  for  six  days. 

Every  day  while  in  this  city  I  found  (aside  from 
us  senators)  many  men  who  had  secured  work  or 
would  have  gone  to  work,  but  who  could  find  no  one 
to  trust  them.  The  boarding-house  keepers  had 
been  imposed  upon  so  many  times  by  penniless  peo- 
ple that  they  were  cautious.  The  contractor  or  em- 
ployer will  never  pay  in  advance,  only  at  a  stated 
time, —  once  a  week,  once  in  two  weeks,  or  once  a 
month.  While  there  may  be  exceptions,  through 
all  my  investigations  in  the  larger  cities  of  our  coun- 
try, I  have  never  found  any  relief  for  the  penniless 
worker  in  this  time  of  need,  either  in  public  or 
private  works.  If  he  proves  he  is  a  fine  worker  he 
is  valuable  to  his  employer  and  he  wants  to  keep 
him.  But  he  does  not  know  him.  He  may  have 
unconquerable  habits.  It  would  never  do  to  pay 
him  his  wage  when  the  day  is  done.  He  might  not 
return,  so  the  employer  hopes  to  hold  him  by  offer- 
ing him  nothing,  not  even  a  word  of  inquiry  as  to 
his  needs,  or  of  encouragement.  He  forgets  that  he 
is  an  asset  to  the  community,  that  whether  work- 
ing for  the  city  or  the  individual,  every  laborer  is 


THE  CRIME  OF  NEGLECT          233 

just  as  worthy  of  respect  and  esteem  as  is  the  priv- 
ileged owner  of  Forest  Hill. 

What  an  appeal  for  Cleveland's  Emergency 
Home  to  fill  this  place  of  need! 

Reader,  I  want  you  to  keep  steadily  in  mind  that 
you  are  looking  at  the  man  I  describe,  not  at  me. 
I  had  multi-millionaire  acquaintances  in  Cleveland 
who  would  have  granted  me  any  request  I  might 
have  made.  I  held  credentials  on  which  any  bank 
in  that  city  would  have  honored  my  check  without 
question.  I  could  have  stepped  into  the  home  of 
the  exceedingly  prominent  lodge  of  which  I  was  a 
member  in  good  standing,  and  could  have  had  my 
every  wish  granted.  I  knew  if  I  fell  ill  or  met 
with  accident,  to  reveal  my  identity  meant  every 
care  and  comfort,  the  speedy  coming  of  a  loving 
wife,  kind  relatives  and  friends.  And  so,  after  all, 
while  I  might  endure,  I  could  only  assume. 

My  aged  "  senator  "  friend  left  me,  to  walk  a  long 
way  in  search  of  someone  he  knew,  who  perhaps 
would  make  his  burden  light.  I  did  not  need  to  be 
told  the  feelings  of  the  old  gentleman  as  he  wearily 
took  his  departure.  I  had  started  for  the  Public 
Square  to  rest,  though  momentarily,  for  there  was 
a  dinner  which  must  be  battled  for.  I  passed  a 
fruit  store.  There  was  an  array  of  delicious  fruit 
in  front, —  many  baskets  of  rich,  purple  grapes, 
marked  ten  cents.  I  was  sure  I  could  have  eaten 
at  least  one  basket.  They  were  not  directly  in  front 
of  the  window.  It  would  have  been  so  easy  to  pick 


234  "BKOKE" 

up  a  basket  unseen  and  be  quickly  lost  in  the  crowd* 
After  all  it  was  true,  then,  that  starving  men  and 
boys  filched  bottles  of  milk  from  doorsteps,  a  loaf 
of  bread  from  the  bakery,  or  a  pie  from  a  wagon ! 

I  stepped  directly  in  front  of  the  window  and 
looked  at  the  apples  and  oranges.  A  woman  inside 
seemed  to  have  her  eye  on  me, —  I  fancied  sus- 
piciously. Instantly  she  stepped  out  and  picking 
up  one  each  of  the  fairest  of  the  apples  and  oranges 
offered  them  to  me.  I  hesitatingly  regarded  her 
gift.  "  Take  them,"  she  said,  "  God  made  them  to 
be  eaten."  I  had  had  nothing  to  eat  for  eighteen 
hours  except  my  "  charity  "  bowl  of  barley  soup 
and  with  it  the  warning  not  to  come  back.  The  city 
of  Cleveland  had  nothing  to  offer.  It  remained  for 
a  poor  woman  to  give  me  a  portion  of  her  small 
possessions. 

I  reached  the  Square.  Broken,  I  dropped  into  a 
seat  and  was  immediately  lost  in  sleep,  from  which 
I  was  suddenly  awakened  by  a  sharp  blow  on  the 
bottom  of  my  feet,  which,  through  the  thin  half- 
wornout  soles,  left  a  burning  sting.  Lifting  my 
head,  I  saw  a  burly  policeman  who  growled, 

"  Keep  your  eyes  open.  This  Square  is  for  wide- 
awake people." 

"  It  certainly  is  not  for  the  city  of  Cleveland, 
then,  in  its  care  for  its  homeless,"  I  remarked. 

Eemembering  I  was  in  a  "  Golden  Rule  "  city,  I 
felt  that  I  could  safely  reply  to  this  august  hint  of 
the  law,  without  fear  of  being  "  run  in  "  or  beaten 


THE  CRIME  OF   NEGLECT          235 

into  insensibility,  as  I  had  seen  helpless  men  treated 
in  other  cities  for  such  presumption.  He  simply 
gave  me  a  half  comprehending  look  as  he  passed 
on.  Now  this  officer  was  not  the  Chief  of  Police 
in  that  city.  He  was  simply  a  subordinate,  and  a 
city  of  six  hundred  thousand  people  requires  a  large 
police  force.  Notwithstanding  the  spirit  of  the 
Chief  of  Police,  or  his  high  ideal  of  what  a  police 
department  really  stands  for,  his  good  aim  and  end 
will  be  miscarried  continually  by  his  hirelings,  un- 
til the  required  qualifications  of  a  policeman  are 
based  upon  intelligence,  good-will,  good  morals, 
good  deeds,  and  not  upon  the  fact  that  he  helped 
carry  his  ward. 

I  saw,  however,  during  my  short  stay  in  this  city 
evidences  of  advancement  in  the  character  of  their 
police  system,  which  spoke  volumes  for  Cleveland, 
even  though  the  homeless  and  temporarily  money- 
less toiler,  seeking  work,  found  no  help  in  the  many 
considerations  for  labor. 

With  the  feeling  that  closing  one's  eyes  in  the 
public  park  in  Cleveland  might  mean  life  imprison- 
ment or  at  least,  for  the  second  offense,  a  rap  on 
the  head  instead  of  the  feet,  which  might  disqualify 
me  for  my  seat  in  the  "  senate  "  that  night,  I  forced 
myself  to  keep  awake,  and  in  order  to  do  that  I 
had  to  keep  moving. 

The  agreement  with  myself  was  not  to  beg  or 
steal.  I  was  to  be  always  "  on  the  square."  I  de- 
cided to  continue  to  look  for  work.  The  day  before, 


236  "BROKE'' 

in  search  of  work,  I  had  climbed  many  stairs,  en- 
tered stores,  hotels,  factories,  even  tried  the  City, 
all  without  success.  I  began  to  feel  that  perhaps 
I  was  too  old,  yet  several  of  them  had  said,  "  Come 
again.  There  are  always  chances.  We  may  be 
able  to  use  you  in  a  few  days." 

I  realized  I  was  weak  from  lack  of  sleep  and 
nourishment.  I  must  eat  first.  Just  then  I  over- 
heard one  starving  man  say  to  another  (the  park 
was  full  of  "wide-awake,"  starving  men),  "Jack, 
I  have  ten  cents,  let's  have  a  couple  of  beers." 

"  Honest,  Bill,  I'd  rather  have  a  loaf  of  bread  for 
my  share." 

"  But  you  see,"  returned  Bill,  "  you  can  get  a 
scoop  of  beer  as  big  as  a  toy  balloon  and  a  free  lunch 
like  a  Christmas  dinner  for  the  price  of  a  loaf  of 
bread." 

"All  right,  I'm  with  you,"  said  Jack  who  then 
continued,  "  Another  week  like  the  one  gone  by,  and 
want  will  have  me  in  a  home  for  incurables." 

'Tis  true  I  had  forty-four  cents  due  me  for  one 
day's  "  session "  in  the  "  senate."  But  what  of 
that?  It  was  not  due  until  Saturday  night  at 
twelve  o'clock.  By  that  time  hunger  might  drive  a 
man  to  wreck,  rob,  murder  or  suicide,  and  there  is 
no  telling  what  a  politician  will  do,  even  on  a  full 
stomach. 

I  then  remembered  hearing  one  "  senator  "  telling 
another  of  a  Catholic  institution  where  he  had  re- 
ceived a  hand-out  for  some  work.  I  remembered 


237 

the  name  of  the  place.  I  also  remembered  hearing 
another  say  he  had  earned  fifty  cents  that  day  beat- 
ing carpets, —  a  job  he  secured  from  the  Associated 
Charities. 

I  first  made  my  way  to  the  Romanist  institution. 
A  Sister  with  a  sweet  face  framed  in  folds  of  black 
and  white  met  me  at  the  door.  She  looked  kind 
enough  to  give  me  the  institution,  but  she  didn't. 
If  she  had,  Cleveland  would  have  had,  from  the  way 
I  was  feeling  just  then,  a  Municipal  Emergency 
Home  about  as  quickly  as  one  could  change  the  sign. 
What  she  did  give  me  was  a  job  cleaning  windows, 
for  which  I  received  a  bowl  of  cold  coffee  and  a 
piece  of  bread.  As  I  waited  I  caught  glimpses  of 
delicious  dishes  of  chicken,  steaks,  and  other  whole- 
some and  dainty  edibles.  To  the  cook,  a  bright 
young  Irish  woman  who  had  received  orders  to  give 
me  only  what  was  before  me,  I  said,  as  I  looked  at 
the  bowl  and  bread,  "  Do  these  people  believe  in 
multiplying  anything  around  here?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What?  " 

"  Working  hours." 

"  What  do  you  do  for  something  to  eat  when  you 
get  really  hungry?  " 

"Well,  you  see,  this  is  an  institution  what  be- 
lieves in  fasting."  We  both  laughed  and  this 
brought  forth  a  Mother  Superior  followed  by  a 
Mother  Inferior,  whose  faces  were  sour  enough  to 
start  a  pickle  factory.  I  felt  that  I  had  committed 


238  "BROKE" 

some  unpardonable  offense  and  abbreviated  my  call 
by  taking  a  speedy  departure. 

Scarcely  were  we  seated  that  night  in  the  "  sen- 
ate "  before  the  old  "  senator  "  told  of  the  square 
meal  he  had  that  day  and  of  a  fine  place  he  had 
found  in  a  stable  where  we  could  sleep  with  the 
comfort  befitting  our  distinguished  station.  He 
had  not  seen  it,  but  knew  where  it  was  and  how  to 
find  it.  So  after  the  session  adjourned,  we  started 
for  our  newly-found  shelter.  It  was  now  late  in 
October.  The  nights  were  unusually  cold  in  Cleve- 
land for  that  time  of  year.  After  walking  what 
seemed  an  interminable  distance,  the  warm,  bright 
street  cars  passing  us  frequently  (the  fare  only 
three  cents),  we  finally  reached  our  shelter.  It 
was  not  as  we  fancied  it  would  be, —  a  large,  fine 
barn,  half  filled  with  new-mown  hay.  It  was  an 
old,  closed-in,  empty  shed,  with  two  stalls  and  two 
mangers.  We  entered.  By  striking  a  few  matches, 
we  could  see  to  gather  up  enough  of  the  refuse  in 
the  stalls  to  lie  on,  by  placing  it  in  the  narrow 
mangers.  The  "  senator  "  took  one  and  I  the  other. 
He  suggested  that  I  take  off  my  coat  and  place  it 
over  my  head  and  shoulders,  saying  that  by  so  doing 
I  would  be  much  warmer  than  if  I  kept  it  on.  I 
found  this  to  be  true.  So  exhausted  and  weary 
had  we  become  that  we  were  soon  lost  in  profound 
sleep,  from  which  I  awoke  at  three  o'clock,  perish- 
ing with  the  cold.  I  crept  over  and  felt  of  the  old 
man.  He  was  alive  and  sleeping  soundly.  I 


THE  CRIME  OP  NEGLECT          239 

slipped  out  and  walked  the  streets  for  an  hour.  By 
the  time  I  was  thoroughly  warmed  the  day  had  be- 
gun to  break.  Very  soon  I  found  myself  again  in 
"  wide-awake  "  Square.  I  wasn't  in  the  most  ami- 
able mood  in  the  world.  Far  from  it.  I  began  to 
feel  that  I  would  like  to  stand  on  their  city  hall 
steps  and  tell  the  people  of  Cleveland  what  I 
thought  of  them.  I  slipped  into  that  ideal  little 
lavatory,  and  with  the  warm  water,  soap  and  clean 
towel,  cleansed  my  hands  and  face  until  I  felt  re- 
freshed. Then  I  thought  of  Tom  Johnson,  and  the 
bitterness  left  my  heart.  I  actually  forgot  for  the 
moment  that  I  was  starving  and  fell  to  wondering 
whither  God  had  taken  him  and  what  great  work 
he  was  doing  in  that  land  to  which  he  had  gone. 

I  then  left  for  the  Labor  Bureau  of  the  Asso- 
ciated Charities.  Perhaps  I  could  get  work  with 
enough  pay  in  advance  for  a  breakfast.  On  reach- 
ing there  I  found  twenty  men  and  boys  standing 
outside,  and  after  waiting  an  hour  there  seemed  to 
be  very  little  work  to  be  had.  Only  a  few  were  sup- 
plied. During  my  stay  in  Cleveland,  as  a  test,  I 
went  every  day  to  this  place  but  never  succeeded  in 
getting  work.  This  was  the  only  place  I  had  been 
able  to  find  in  Cleveland  which  even  offered  work 
to  a  man  without  money.  I  then  tried  for  an  hour 
to  do  something  for  a  meal,  but  was  unsuccessful. 
Going  back  to  the  Square  I  sat  down  and  consid- 
ered my  contract  and  my  feelings.  I  had  agreed 
with  myself  to  do  nothing  that  would  make  me  lose 


240  "BROKE" 

my  self-respect,  yet  I  must  eat  or  forfeit  my  con- 
tract. I  glanced  down  at  my  hand.  There  was  the 
golden  circle  of  love, —  my  wedding  ring.  Other 
starving  men  had  been  forced  to  pawn  this  priceless 
emblem  of  sweet  memories.  I  remembered  a  penni- 
less man  whom  I  met  in  San  Francisco,  weak  from 
the  suffering  caused  by  extreme  want.  He  was  an 
engraver  by  trade.  Hoping  against  fate  that  each 
day  would  bring  him  an  opportunity,  he  walked  and 
searched  for  the  place  which  he  knew  he  could  so 
ably  fill.  As  we  talked  he  told  me  a  story  from  the 
book  of  his  life ;  of  a  girl  wife  and  a  baby  boy  whom 
the  Angel  had  taken.  While  he  talked  he  glanced 
down  and  turned  upon  his  finger  a  slender  thread  of 
gold.  I  saw  that  to  this  man,  there  lay  in  that 
circle  of  love,  a  sacred  memory, —  the  blossoming 
of  an  honest  workingman's  home,  attributes  of 
which  were  truth,  love,  h'onor  and  eternal  fidelity. 
The  workingman's  home, —  without  the  intrusion 
of  poverty  —  is  the  stronghold  of  a  great  and  good 
citizen,  the  steadfast  guiding  star  of  a  great 
government. 

Speaking  to  me  with  that  freedom  born  of  the 
sympathy  which  binds  one  homeless  man  to  an- 
other (and  he  was  a  man,  ambitious,  free  from  the 
bondage  of  any  bad  habit),  he  said,  "  I  will  have  to 
pawn  my  ring  to-day,  but,"  with  determined  em- 
phasis, "  I  will  never  lose  it.  Yet  I  am  a  little 
afraid  of  the  pawnshop.  Their  rate  of  interest  is 


THE  CRIME  OF   NEGLECT          241 

theft,  and  the  time  for  redemption  limited  to  one 
month." 

We  then  talked  of  New  York  City's  Provident 
Loan  Association,  which  is  simply  the  poor  man's 
depository,  the  interest  only  one  per  cent,  a  month, 
and  the  time  one  year.  The  city  that  is  without 
this  social  good  is  the  city  that  does  not  belong  to 
the  present  day  progress,  and  must  savor  of  be- 
trayal, of  artifice,  of  ill-gotten  gains.  As  I  left  him, 
I  said,  "  Should  you  have  to  pawn  your  ring,  look 
the  matter  up.  Of  course,  San  Francisco  must 
have  so  worthy  an  organization." 

Leaving  the  Square  I  found  a  pawnshop.  Un- 
like the  man  in  actual  poverty,  I  had  not  the  dread 
fear  of  losing  the  cherished  momento.  The  pawn- 
shop man  scratched  it,  weighed  it,  raised  his  hand, 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said,  "  I  giff  you  vun 
dollar." 

"  But  it  cost  ten,"  I  said. 

"  Veil,  all  right,  I  giff  you  vun  dollar." 

There  was  no  other  way,  I  was  helpless.  So  I 
replied,  "All  right,  take  it."  He  gave  me  the 
dollar  and  a  pawn  certificate  demanding  for  the 
redemption  of  my  ring  a  dollar  and  twenty-five 
cents  if  redeemed  inside  of  thirty  days.  If  re- 
deemed within  an  hour,  it  made  no  difference. 

I  had  already  tested  the  institutions,  religious  and 
otherwise,  which  existed  in  Cleveland  supposedly  to 
shelter  the  destitute,  and  had  been  either  locked 


242  "BKOKE" 

out  or  turned  back  into  the  street.  How  big  that 
dollar  felt  in  my  hand !  I  fancied  it  was  a  twenty- 
dollar  gold  piece.  I  did  not  dare  let  go  of  it.  With 
my  old  "senator"  friend  in  mind,  I  saw  a  sign 
which  read,  "  Dinner  twenty-five  cents."  I  could 
not  get  into  the  place  quickly  enough.  I  left 
greatly  refreshed,  but  only  half  satisfied.  I  found 
the  old  "  senator,"  with  whom  I  shared  my  fortune. 
He  had  been  unsuccessful  in  finding  a  job.  He  did 
as  I  did,  spent  twenty-five  cents  for  a  meal  and  saved 
the  other  quarter  for  a  bed.  We  were  fixed  for  that 
night,  at  least. 

The  next  morning  I  saw  a  prosperous  looking 
young  man,  standing  on  a  street  corner.  I  don't 
know  what  prompted  me  to  do  so,  but  I  stepped 
up  to  him  and  inquired,  "  Do  you  know  where  a 
fellow  can  get  a  job?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  Do  what  I  am  doing.  1 
am  taking  subscriptions  for  a  magazine  and  I  am 
making  two  and  three  dollars  a  day,  and  it's  dead 
easy." 

He  handed  me  a  card  on  which  was  the  address 
of  the  office.  The  agent  told  me  he  thought  he  had 
canvassers  enough,  but  said,  "  You're  an  intelligent 
looking  cuss,  I  think  I  will  try  you."  He  made  the 
following  proposition :  "  We  offer  five  of  our  lead- 
ing periodicals  for  twenty-five  cents,  providing  the 
person  will  subscribe  for  four  of  them.  These  will 
come  to  him  through  the  mail  at  twenty  cents  a 
month  for  one  year.  A  collector  comes  every  month 


THE  CRIME  OF  NEGLECT          243 

for  the  twenty  cents."  The  twenty-five  cents  paid 
down  for  the  five  magazines  was  to  be  my  commis- 
sion. That  night  I  had  just  two  dollars,  and  I 
think  I  was  the  happiest  man  in  Cleveland.  I  had 
landed  a  job,  and  I  fully  realized  that  I  could  have 
done  twice  as  much  if  I  had  not  been  weakened 
by  lack  of  nourishment  and  exposure  while  seeking 
work.  After  drawing  my  salary  as  "  senator  "  and 
working  like  a  Trojan  through  the  day,  the  next 
Sunday  found  me  at  the  Big  Four  Station  with  just 
six  dollars  in  my  pocket.  Five  dollars  and  twenty- 
five  cents  I  paid  for  a  ticket  to  Cincinnati.  Spend- 
ing the  balance  for  food  while  on  the  road,  I  landed 
in  that  city  at  midnight,  broke.  I  had  no  money, 
but  I  possessed  a  wealth  of  knowledge  in  regard  to 
the  city  of  high  standards  on  the  shore  of  the  Erie 
inland  sea. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
CINCINNATI  —  NECESSITY'S  BRUTAL  CHAINS 

"  There  is  no  contending  with  necessity,  and  we  should  be  very 
tender  how  we  censure  those  who  submit  to  it.  It  is  one  thing 
to  be  at  liberty  to  do  what  we  will  and  another  thing  to  be  tied 
up  to  do  what  we  must" 

I  ENTERED  the  depot  and  sank  wearily  into 
a  seat.  I  felt  pretty  well  and  had  a  clear 
conscience.  Had  I  not  honorably  paid  my 
way  from  Cleveland  to  Cincinnati  instead  of  tres- 
passing on  the  property  of  a  mighty  railroad  com- 
pany? I  found  a  place  to  sit  down,  dropped  my 
head  forward  and  was  soon  fast  asleep.  But  the 
sleep  was  of  short  duration  for  in  a  few  minutes  I 
was  rudely  awakened  by  the  depot  policeman. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  he  said. 

"  Nowhere,"  I  answered.     "  I  have  no  money." 

"  Well,  what  are  you  doing  here?  " 

"  Can't  you  see?     I  am  trying  to  sleep?  " 

"  Have  you  a  railroad  ticket?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  you  can't  stay  here." 

"  Have  they  a  Free  Municipal  Emergency  Home 
in  this  city?  " 

244 


NECESSITY'S  BRUTAL  CHAINS      245 

"  No." 

"  Where  would  you  have  me  go?  " 

"  Some  other  place." 

Knowing  too  well  the  result  to  the  homeless,  desti- 
tute wage-earner  of  disobedience  to  the  scion  of 
the  law,  I  quickly  left.  To  be  absolutely  alone  on 
the  streets  of  a  great,  strange  city  at  midnight, 
penniless,  without  a  friend  or  acquaintance,  was 
nothing  to  me,  a  strong,  well  man.  But  to  the 
homeless  woman  or  girl,  or  the  frail  sick  man  or 
boy,  my  homelessness  held  a  great  meaning.  Go- 
ing a  short  way  up  the  street,  I  saw  a  man  stand- 
ing on  a  corner,  and  from  his  dejected  mien,  I  knew 
that  he,  like  myself,  was  a  down-and-out. 

"  Hello,"  I  said. 

"  Hello,"  he  answered. 

"  Where  can  a  fellow  that's  broke  find  a  "  flop?  " 

"  Explore  me !  " 

"  They  have  just  driven  me  out  of  the  Big  Four." 

"  They  have  just  kicked  me  out  of  the  L.  &  N. 
I  am  going  to  Fountain  Square.  It  is  now  one 
o'clock.  There  is  a  train  that  leaves  at  two-thirty 
from  the  L.  &  N.  People  are  already  going  to  the 
station.  You  can  probably  stay  there  unnoticed 
until  the  train  leaves.  I  can't  go  back  for  they 
would  know  me,  but  keep  your  eyes  open  for  bulls." 
And  with  this  advice  he  pointed  out  the  way. 

I  went,  and  unnoticed  I  slept  an  hour  sitting  on 
a  station  seat.  When  the  train  left,  I  was  the  only 
remaining  individual  in  the  waiting-room  and,  of 


246  "BROKE" 

course,  very  conspicuous.  The  hint  of  the  law  for 
decency  and  order  at  that  station,  came  to  me  with 
the  question,  "Why  didn't  you  take  that  train?" 

"  I  did  not  want  it." 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?  " 

"  I  have  no  other  shelter." 

With  the  deep,  low-bred  voice  of  an  unfeeling 
brute,  he  emphatically  said,  "  Beat  it." 

I,  too,  must  now  find  Fountain  Square.  A 
switchman  kindly  pointed  out  the  direction.  As  I 
walked  up  the  street,  I  raised  my  eyes  to  see  if  the 
day  was  breaking,  but  I  might  have  known  better. 
Automobiles  and  hacks  containing  only  men  came 
down  the  street  and  stopped  before  the  large,  red- 
curtained  houses,  and  from  the  sound  of  revelry,  of 
jest,  laughter  and  music,  I  realized  that  I  was  in 
the  redlight  district.  A  black  slave  standing  in  a 
dimly  lighted  entrance  to  a  passage  between  two 
houses,  said,  "  Hello,  Honey,  buy  me  a  drink." 

"  Why,  girl,  I  could  not  buy  a  postage  stamp 
that  was  canceled." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?" 

"  I'm  broke.  I  haven't  even  a  place  to  sleep  to- 
night." 

"  Come  here." 

I  stepped  up  a  little  nearer  to  her. 

"  Is  yo>  sho'  nuff  broke?  " 

"  I  most  assuredly  am." 

"Whahyo'  from?" 

"  From  Cleveland." 


NECESSITY'S  BRUTAL  CHAINS      247 

"  WJiat  ?s  de  matter  wid  Cleveland?  Cleveland 
all  gone  to  — ?  " 

"  It  was  for  me,  at  least  during  part  of  the  time 
I  was  there." 

"  And  has  yo'  honest  nowhah  er  to  sleep?  " 

She  put  her  hand  in  her  purse  and  offered  me  a 
quarter.  "  Take  that.  It  will  buy  yo'  a  bed." 

Glancing  up,  I  saw  or  fancied  I  saw  the  light  of 
dawn.  "  No,  girl.  See,  the  day  is  breaking,"  and 
as  I  went  on  to  the  Square,  I  knew  that  I  had  seen 
in  that  poor,  black  slave  girl  an  expression  of 
human  kindness  that  could  not  be  found  in  the 
vocabulary  of  the  Christian,  intelligent,  cultured 
city  of  Cincinnati.  She  had  offered  me,  the  home- 
less, penniless,  out-of-work  man,  a  shelter. 

Girl,  for  you  and  your  kind,  and  your  race,  in  the 
great  South,  the  day  is  daw^ning. 

Fountain  Square  is  a  strip  of  concrete  about  fifty 
feet  wide,  extending  for  a  block.  In  the  center  is 
a  large,  magnificent  fountain.  This  Square  was  ac- 
quired by  the  city  as  a  gift,  with  a  perpetual  proviso 
that  it  should  always  be  a  market-place.  Otherwise 
the  city  would  forfeit  the  grant.  Consequently,  on 
one  side,  as  a  retainer,  is  built  a  six  by  ten  foot  iron, 
pagoda-roofed  structure,  under  which  are  several 
tiers  of  shelves  on  which,  for  a  short  time  each  year, 
flowers  are  placed  and  sold.  On  either  side  benches 
were  placed,  but  when  I  reached  the  Square  every 
available  place  seemed  filled.  The  shelves  in  the 
flower  stand  were  crowded  with  homeless,  drooping, 


248  "BROKE" 

broken  human  beings.  The  roof  was  a  shelter  from 
the  frost.  There  were  one  hundred  men  in  this 
Cincinnati  "  Free  Municipal  Emergency  Home " 
that  night.  Nor  was  this  even  free,  for  frequently 
the  police  of  this  humane  city  raid  the  Square  and 
drive  all,  to  the  last  man,  to  prison.  Exhaustion 
was  beating  me  down,  and  there  seemed  no  other  al- 
ternative, so  with  palpitating  heart  lest  I  be  singled 
out  as  a  hopeless  inebriate,  thrown  into  jail  and 
then  onto  the  stone  pile,  I  lay  down  on  the  frost- 
covered  stone  at  the  feet  of  my  homeless  compan- 
ions and  fell  into  a  sleep.  It  was  only  for  a  short 
time,  however,  for  the  rousing  up  of  the  men  on  the 
bench  awakened  me  and  one  said  to  me  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  "  For  God's  sake,  Jack,  get  up !  Here 
comes  a  bull."  I  quickly  sprang  to  my  feet. 

As  the  men  were  leaving  the  Square  I  saw  a  num- 
ber of  them  enter  a  dark  alley,  and  asked  where  they 
were  going.  I  was  told  the  Enquirer  posted  the 
"  want-ad  "  sheets  of  the  paper  at  its  back  door  an 
hour  before  daylight.  A  group  of  fifteen  men  and 
two  young  women  were  already  there,  striking 
matches  and  struggling  to  read  the  columns  of 
"  Help  Wanted."  I  finally  succeeded  in  getting 
close  enough  to  read  them.  There  were  a  number 
of  things  I  could  do.  I  took  the  list  and  started  out 
only  to  realize  the  absolute  necessity  of  a  breakfast. 
I  tried  several  places  to  work  for  this  essential  re- 
inforcement to  health  and  strength,  but  failed.  I 
thought  over  my  effects  again.  No,  I  had  nothing 


NECESSITY'S  BRUTAL  CHAINS      249 

except  my  eyeglasses.  After  all  they  were  only  for 
fine  print  while  reading.  I  thought  of  the  watch- 
maker in  New  York  who  was  resting  from  going 
blind  and  of  the  boy  I  had  met,  who,  without  his 
glasses,  was  almost  blind  but  who  had  pawned  them 
for  food;  of  another,  a  boy  without  vice  and  in- 
dustrious, selling  the  gold  filling  from  his  teeth  to 
help  him  over  a  rough  place;  of  men  I  had  seen, 
through  want,  pawn  their  underclothing.  It  was  a 
simple  thing  for  me  to  part  with  my  glasses.  I  got 
twenty-five  cents  on  them. 

After  breakfast  I  began  a  strenuous  search  for 
work  and  at  last,  after  explaining  that  I  could 
handle  horses,  and  was  sober  and  industrious,  I  wTas 
hired  at  twelve  dollars  a  week  to  drive  a  milk  wagon 
at  F  -  — ,  a  big  milk  depot.  But  they  did  not  want 
me  for  three  days  and  there  was  the  rub.  The 
manager  of  a  large  restaurant  told  me  that  if  I 
would  come  at  two  o'clock  the  next  morning  and 
work  from  two  until  four  he  would  give  me  my 
breakfast  and  a  quarter  of  a  dollar.  I  was  exceed- 
ingly happy,  for  I,  at  least,  was  rich  in  prospects. 

I  went  to  the  public  bath  and  was  absolutely  re- 
fused a  bath  because  I  had  not  a  nickel.  The  Sal- 
vation Army  refused  me  assistance  in  any  way, 
shape  or  manner.  The  Associated  Charities  had 
nothing  to  give  away.  They  did  not  even  have  a 
bed  in  exchange  for  work.  H'owever  they  had 
meals  in  exchange  for  labor.  By  sawing  wood  for 
one  or  more  hours  they  would  give  me  a  meal.  I 


250  "BROKE" 

knew  what  that  meal  would  be,  a  decoction  of  stuff 
made  mostly  of  water,  and  I  said,  "  You  must  give 
a  pretty  good  meal  for  one  and  a  half  hours'  labor 
at  the  hard  work  of  sawing  wood."  This  seemed  to 
touch  the  head  of  this  Charity  institution,  for  in 
an  offended  way  he  said : 

"  This  is  a  Charity  institution  —  not  a  Com- 
mercial one." 

The  Y.  M.  O.  A.  refused  me  even  a  bath.  I  was 
beginning  to  get  saucy  and  politely  told  the  pre- 
siding officer  of  this  commercial  institution  he  had 
better  take  the  word  "  Christian  "  out  of  their  title. 
I  was  met  with  such  violent  anathemas  that  I  felt 
I  was  in  the  wrong  and  speedily  retired. 

By  this  time  circumstances  were  forcing  my 
mental  contract  to  assume  an  india-rubber  char- 
acter, like  laws  of  justice  and  good  books.  There 
was  a  large  religious  convention  in  session  in  the 
city  and  if  my  contract  would  allow  me  to  ask  aid 
of  those  institutions  which  stand  avowed  to  help  a 
destitute  workingman,  and  these  gentlemen  of  the 
cloth  posed  as  representatives  of  such  heavenly 
safeguards  against  despair,  I  felt  that  I  was  justi- 
fied (although  it  was  against  a  city  ordinance  and, 
if  caught,  I  would  be  imprisoned) ,  at  least  in  asking 
of  these  the  price  of  a  meal  or  a  bed.  So  bringing 
into  play  a  determined  will  and  taking  a  stand  at  a 
convenient  place  where  I  was  sure  I  would  not  be 
detected,  I  hesitatingly  approached  one  saying, 
"  Sir,  would  you  kindly  give  an  honest  workingman 


NECESSITY'S  BRUTAL  CHAINS     251 

the  price  of  a  meal?"  He  replied,  without  stop- 
ping except  to  slap  me  cordially  on  the  back. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  have  no  money." 

I  then  asked  another,  whose  answer  as  he  stopped 
for  a  brief  instant  was : 

"  My  dear  friend,  I  have  no  change." 

To  this  I  replied,  "  I  did  not  ask  for  change  par- 
ticularly. I  am  not  hard  to  suit,  at  least  just  now. 
A  dollar  will  go  farther  than  a  dime." 

He  only  smiled  and  hurried  on.  I  was  their  dear 
boy  and  dear  friend,  but  not  precious  enough  to 
find  a  place  in  their  hospitality.  I  could  have 
rested  again  that  night  on  the  stones  of  Fountain 
Square,  or  suffered  the  insult  and  abuse  of  a  Cin- 
cinnati prison,  or  have  been  forced  into  the  hos- 
pital, or  have  ended  the  struggle  in  the  Ohio  river, 
for  all  that  Cincinnati  or  at  least  these  two  satel- 
lites of  this  mighty  convention  cared. 

The  nights  were  extremely  cold  but  the  days  were 
bright  and  warm  in  the  sunshine.  Too  weary  to 
undergo  further  the  trial  without  rest,  I  crept  away 
to  the  river  bank,  far  enough  away  to  be  unmolested, 
away  from  suspicion  and  question.  Here  on  the 
sun-warmed  gravel,  with  my  little  bundle  for  a  pil- 
low, I  fell  into  a  sweet  sleep  and  pleasant  dreams, 
not  of  pearly  gates  and  golden  streets,  but  of  snowy 
beds  and  sumptuous  tables.  I  slept  for  a  long  while 
and  when  I  awoke  the  sun  was  setting  in  some 
dense  black  clouds  and  the  air  had  the  chill  of  an 
approaching  storm.  Remembering  that  I  had  a 


252  "BROKE" 

job  at  two  o'clock  on  the  coining  morning  and  the 
thought  bringing  a  certain  degree  of  comfort  and 
cheer,  I  strolled  into  a  large  saloon,  where  there 
was  a  bright  fire.  Here  I  sat  and  talked  to  many 
workingmen  who  came  that  way.  I  read  the  many 
papers  scattered  about  until  the  place  closed,  at 
midnight,  when  I  was  forced  back  to  a  bench  in 
Fountain  Square.  Just  as  I  arrived  there  a  gust 
of  wind  and  Fain  swirled  through  the  streets  and 
into  the  Square  with  a  mad  force.  It  was  a  har- 
binger of  what  was  to  follow.  A  few  moments 
later  there  broke  forth  the  most  piercing  equinoc- 
tial storm  of  wind,  snow  and  rain  that  I  had  ever 
known.  It  lasted  for  three  days. 

I  crept  into  the  office  of  an  all-night  lodging 
house.  When  it  was  discovered  that  I  did  not  want 
a  bed  and  had  no  money  I  was  requested  to  vacate. 
I  thought  of  going  at  once  to  the  restaurant  where 
I  was  to  work  in  the  morning  but  I  remembered 
the  manager  had  told  me  not  to  come  before  two 
o'clock.  Already  wet  from  exposure  I  sought  the 
shelter  of  the  flower  stand.  Eight  men  ahead  of 
me  had  taken  refuge  there,  but  they  kindly  allowed 
me  to  crowd  in.  While  we  were  protected  from  the 
beating  torrent  of  rain,  we  were  thoroughly  chilled 
and  suffering  intensely. 

After  all,  I  was  the  favored  one,  for  in  a  short 
time  I  would  be  in  a  big  warm  restaurant  kitchen 
at  work.  It  seemed  an  endless  time  before  I  found 
myself  there  with  another  man  paring  potatoes,  and 


NECESSITY'S  BEUTAL  CHAINS      253 

while  we  worked,  he  told  me  of  the  steamboat  run- 
ning from  Cincinnati  to  Louisville,  and  of  the  op- 
portunity many  times  for  a  man  to  work  his  way  to 
the  latter  city, —  a  suggestion  which  I  resolved,  if 
possible,  to  profit  by.  Four  o'clock  soon  came,  and 
my  breakfast  was  earned.  It  was  not  as  I  thought 
it  would  be, —  a  portion  of  all  the  good  things  that 
the  restaurant  afforded,  and  that  I  could  eat 
against  a  week's  time  of  need.  It  was  simply  a 
twenty  cent  check  for  a  breakfast  at  the  lunch 
counter  upstairs.  I  could  have  eaten  four  such 
meals  without  fear  of  any  unpleasant  results,  but  as 
he  gave  me  the  check  he  gave  me  my  quarter  also, 
saying,  "  We  do  not  usually  give  more  than  a  meal 
for  the  work,  but  I  will  make  an  exception  this 
time,  and  as  I  told  you,  give  you  a  quarter."  Why 
he  did  so,  I  have  never  been  able  to  discover.  That 
quarter  meant  a  great  deal  to  me,  for  I  could  spend 
it  where  I  sought  shelter,  and  feel  a  degree  of  in- 
dependence and  welcome.  Don't  think  for  a  mo- 
ment the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  the  Salvation  Army,  or  the 
Associated  Charities  got  it!  I  was  pretty  sure, 
however,  to  save  ten  cents  of  it  for  a  bed  at  the 
Union  Mission  on  the  levee.  On  going  there  I 
asked  for  the  gift  of  a  bed,  and  was  decidedly  re- 
fused. I  was  told  it  was  not  a  Christian  institu- 
tion which  gave  gifts  to  the  needy,  but  absolutely  a 
business  proposition  with  them.  Whether  that  be 
true  or  not,  I  admired  them  for  their  honesty. 
This  Mission  was  near  the  steamboat  landing. 


254  "BROKE" 

On  the  following  morning  I  applied  for  the 
privilege  of  working  my  way  to  Louisville.  I  could 
do  so,  but  the  only  work  offered  was  that  of  roust- 
about, loading  and  unloading  heavy  freight  before 
leaving  and  while  en  route.  I  would  receive  no  pay 
for  my  work,  unless  I  signed  to  return,  or  make  a 
round  trip.  The  deck  passage  was  a  dollar  and  a 
half.  The  next  morning,  with  two  white  and 
twenty  black  men,  associate  workers,  I  was  off  for 
Louisville. 

Life,  in  recent  years,  had  not  inured  me  to  such 
arduous  work.  I  think  I  could  have  stood  the  work 
more  successfully  than  my  trial  in  New  York  if  I 
had  not  been  weakened  by  starvation,  but  at  the 
test  of  carrying  a  heavy  barrel,  box,  or  bundle,  I 
could  not  stand  firm  and  wavered  as  I  walked, 
which  frightened  me.  I  realized  that  I  must  desist. 
I  made  an  appeal  to  the  boat  officer  to  carry  me  to 
Louisville  on  the  promise  that  I  would  pay  as  soon 
as  I  had  earned  the  money.  I  was  a  weather-beaten 
hobo,  and  of  course,  not  to  be  trusted,  but  my  re- 
quest was  granted,  providing  I  would  leave  my  little 
bundle  as  a  pledge  that  I  would  fulfil  my  promise. 

As  I  was  leaving  the  boat  at  Louisville,  I  stood 
with  my  little  blue  jeans  bundle  in  my  hand.  The 
purser  was  there  to  see  that  I  turned  it  over  to  the 
negro  porter.  The  porter  had  an  austere  cruel  ex- 
pression, but  instantly,  as  we  stepped  back  to 
deposit  it  in  the  porter's  locker,  his  face  turned  to 
a  glow  of  kindness  and  he  handed  me  back  the 


NECESSITY'S  BRUTAL  CHAINS      255 

bundle,  saying,  "  Hit  the  plank.  Put  it  under  your 
coat.  You  will  not  be  noticed."  In  that  little 
package  were  all  my  earthly  possessions.  It  meant 
a  great  deal  to  me.  So  taking  the  bundle  I  slipped 
away.  I  was  again  homeless  on  the  streets  of  an- 
other great  city,  looking  for  work. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

LOUISVILLE  AND  THE  SOUTH 

"  Kindness  is  wisdom.  There  is  none  in  life  but  needs  it  and 
may  learn." 

SHORTLY  after  my  arrival  in  Louisville,  Ken- 
tucky, true  to  the  promise  I  made  myself  in 
Cleveland,  I  sent  the  Navigation  Company 
the  cash  due  them  for  my  passage.     I  felt  exceed- 
ingly happy  that  it  could  not  be  said  of  me  that  T 
had  stolen  my  journey. 

In  Lousiville,  as  in  every  other  city  of  the  Union 
I  have  visited,  I  found  it  very  hard  work  to  get  em- 
ployment. I  found  the  white  man  working  for  the 
same  wage  as  the  black  man,  the  black  man  work- 
ing for  just  one-third  of  what  he  ought  to  have 
been  paid.  This  is  true  all  through  the  South.  I 
found  the  white  men  greatly  embittered  against  the 
black  men  and  declaring  that  the  negroes  kept 
wages  down  by  being  willing  to  work  for  far  less 
than  the  white  workers.  This  was  not  true.  The 
negroes  were  just  as  restless  as  the  white  men  be- 
cause of  the  small  pay  for  labor.  If  the  black 
workers  were  willing,  or  seemed  willing,  to  work 

256 


THE  SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         257 

for  less  pay  than  the  white  workers,  it  was  because 
they  were  forced  to  do  so  to  keep  from  starving. 

As  the  night  came  down  I  was  forced  to  seek 
shelter  at  an  Associated  Charities  lodging  house,  in 
front  of  which  was  an  open  surface  sewer,  so  vile 
that  it  was  nauseating,  the  disease-breeding  odor 
penetrating  the  dormitory  all  through  the  night. 
I  was  met  so  gruffly  that  I  felt  as  if  I  had  offended 
someone  by  my  application  for  shelter  even  though 
I  was  given  to  understand  that  I  was  expected  to 
saw  five  barrels  of  wood  for  it.  I  asked  for  the 
privilege  of  washing  my  hands  and  face ;  for  a  sheet 
of  paper  and  an  envelope  that  I  might  write  a  letter 
home;  for  something  to  read,  and  a  place  to  read 
it.  All  these  little  benefits,  which  meant  just  then 
so  much  to  me  and  which  cost  nothing,  were 
bluntly  denied.  I  was  told  to  go  out  in  the  rear 
yard  among  stacks  of  rubbish,  where  it  was  cold 
and  damp,  until  the  time  arrived  for  offering  the 
hospitality  of  the  place.  Before  going  to  bed  I  was 
obliged  to  take  a  shower  bath,  which  I  thoroughly 
enjoyed,  but  which  was  spoiled  by  a  small,  dirty, 
rough  towel  to  dry  myself  with.  The  bed,  filthy, 
wretched  and  uncomfortable,  I  could  scarcely  have 
enlikired  had  I  not  been  so  bruised  and  weary. 

The  usual  charity  breakfast  dope  of  water  soup, 
water  coffee,  and  coarse  bread  was  given,  for 
which  I  worked  three  hours.  Edgeless  tools  made 
the  work  extremely  difficult.  Many  of  the  men 
worked  half  a  day  for  the  night's  shelter.  I  would 


258  "BROKE" 

have  enjoyed  the  exhilarating  work  on  the  wood  for 
an  hour  if  I  had  been  given  a  breakfast.  Any  man 
would  who  was  able,  and  who  wanted  to  keep  his 
self-respect.  I  left  the  place  embittered.  I  felt 
that  I  had  been  robbed,  as  others  did  who  were 
forced  into  it,  but  it  was  a  shelter. 

The  needs  of  another  night  were  near  at  hand, 
and  I  had  a  half-day  left  in  which  to  look  for  work. 
I  passed  a  fine  restaurant  where  I  noticed  the  win- 
dows needed  polishing  up  a  bit.  I  stepped  inside 
and  asked  the  privilege  of  cleaning  them  for  a 
meal.  My  wish  was  granted.  For  my  hour's  work 
I  was  given  a  delicious,  wholesome  meal  and 
twenty-five  cents  besides.  I  felt  like  doing  a  great 
deal  for  myself  and  something  for  others.  I  was 
in  luck. 

After  many  trials  I  found  work  in  a  business 
place  at  five  dollars  per  week  and  board,  for  seven 
days  in  the  week.  I  was  to  begin  the  next  morn- 
ing. From  exposure  on  the  deck  of  the  steamer  I 
had  contracted  a  severe  cold  which  settled  into 
neuralgia,  and  one  of  my  teeth  was  aching  beyond 
endurance.  My  twenty-five  cents,  which  I  was 
saving  for  a  bed,  I  was  now  obliged  to  spend  in 
having  the  distracting  molar  extracted.  The  first 
dentist  to  whom  I  described  my  pain  and  posses- 
sions, refused  to  pull  the  tooth  for  less  than  fifty 
cents,  but  the  next  man  did  it,  and  I  was  soon  on 
the  street  feeling  actually  happy, —  but  my  bed 
money  was  gone. 


THE   SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         259 

I  could  not  have  returned  to  the  Charity  lodging 
house  even  if  I  had  cared  to,  as  I  was  obliged  to  be 
at  work  at  seven  in  the  morning.  As  it  was  now 
growing  cold  and  dark,  I  was  told  by  another  "  un- 
der-dog  "  of  the  Hope  Rescue  Mission.  I  followed 
his  suggestion  by  going  there.  Entering,  I  regis- 
tered my  name,  and  discovered  that  my  presence 
at  the  evening  meeting  was  demanded  before  I  was 
eligible  for  a  bed.  I  attended  the  meeting  and  dis- 
covered that  one  must  experience  a  change  of  heart 
before  he  is  actually  certain  of  shelter,  for  the 
leader  of  this  heavenly  mansion  said  in  his  address, 
"  You  fellers  need  not  think  you  can  come  here  and 
make  a  big  spiel,  and  get  a  bed  unless  you  mean 
what  you  say."  Immediately  after  the  service  of 
song  and  praise,  we  were  shown  to  bed.  The  door 
of  this  "  heavenly  refuge  "  was  locked  at  ten  o'clock 
for  the  night,  and  going  to  bed  at  this  hour  was 
compulsory. 

As  we  entered,  the  light,  which  was  so  dim  that 
we  could  scarcely  distinguish  one  cot  from  the  other, 
and  which  hid  the  filth  in  which  we  were  to  rest, 
was  in  a  moment  turned  out  and  all  was  darkness. 
Without  undressing,  I  fell  upon  my  bunk  exhausted 
and  was  soon  sound  asleep,  but  at  some  unknown 
hour  in  the  night  I  awakened.  Notwithstanding 
my  precaution  in  not  undressing  I  realized  that  I 
was  covered  with  vermin.  The  filthy  odor  of  sewer 
gas  pervaded  the  place  and  poisoned  every  breath 
of  air  we  breathed.  My  first  impulse  was  to  get  out 


260  "BROKE" 

of  the  place,  but  where  would  I  go?  To  go  out  onto 
the  street  at  this  time  of  the  night  would  probably 
mean  arrest.  I  slid  down  from  my  bunk  to  the 
floor  and  forced  myself  to  remain  there  until  we 
were  called  at  daylight. 

All  of  these  houses  where  a  pretense  is  made  of 
caring,  perhaps,  for  "  angels  unawares,"  are  run 
with  the  greatest  saving  of  expense.  They  usually 
have  a  number  of  physically  weak  dependents  who 
volunteer  their  services  for  an  existence.  While 
we  were  lined  up  in  a  room  next  to  the  eating  place, 
we  had  prayer.  As  all  the  guests  did  not  feel 
inclined  to  kneel,  one  of  the  religious  attaches 
who  seemed  to  regard  it  a  religious  duty  to  uphold 
the  spirit  of  the  institution  demanded, 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  fellows,  can't  you 
kneel?" 

This  demand  caused  some  back  talk  and  probably 
would  have  ended  in  a  rough  house  if  at  that 
moment  the  names  of  the  worthy  for  breakfast  had 
not  been  called.  The  breakfast  consisted  of  luke- 
warm brown  water,  called  coffee,  and  coarse  bread, 
lacking  in  quality  and  quantity.  A  number  of  the 
men  received  nothing,  and  as  we  sat  down  before 
this  prepared  infusion  of  warm  water,  one  of  the 
volunteers  looked  straight  at  me  and  angrily  said, 

"  Say,  can't  you  ask  the  blessing?  " 

Before  I  could,  with  resentment,  ask  what  for, 
a  man  opposite  looked  at  the  fellow  and  said : 


THE   SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         261 

"  Gwan,  I'll  put  a  lump  on  your  thinker  in  a 
minute.  Can't  you  see  this  feller  ain't  no  mission 
stiff?" 

It  was  now  six  o'clock.  I  had  just  one  hour  be- 
fore going  to  work.  I  realized  that  the  annoyances 
I  had  contracted  at  this  Kescue  Hope  Mission, 
which  each  moment  seemed  to  increase  with  start- 
ling force  and  demand  immediate  action,  must  be 
gotten  rid  of.  There  was  but  one  way  open  and 
that  was  the  river.  While  hurriedly  going  there, 
I  searched  for  some  sort  of  vessel  adequate  to 
"boil  up"  with.  Luckily  I  found  a  five  gallon 
Standard  Oil  can,  and  reaching  a  secluded  spot 
with  available  waste  at  hand  for  a  fire,  I  hastily 
"  boiled  up."  I  also  took  a  bath  in  the  icy  waters 
of  the  Ohio.  Using  my  jeans  for  underclothing, 
and  rolling  in  a  bundle  my  now-purified  wet  gar- 
ments, which  in  the  rear  of  the  business  house 
where  I  had  been  engaged  I  hung  on  some  boxes  to 
dry,  I  entered,  serene  and  smiling  and  started  to 
work  just  as  the  clock  struck  seven. 

After  working  twelve  long  hours,  which  included 
time  to  eat  two  meals,  I  asked  the  manager  if  he 
would  kindly  advance  me  the  seventy-one  cents 
due  for  my  day's  work. 

"  No,  it  is  impossible,"  he  said.  "  It  is  not  our 
custom.  We  pay  only  when  the  week's  work  is 
done.  If  you  have  no  place  to  sleep  that  is  your 
affair,  not  ours." 

The  reason  the  employer  will  not  pay  by  the  day 


262  "BROKE" 

is  the  same  here  as  elsewhere, —  because  all  work- 
ing men  are  regarded  as  drinkers  and  they  are  fear- 
ful of  losing  the  worker.  I  realized  that  I  could 
not  work  without  rest.  Louisville  offered  such  a 
privilege  to  no  one  without  money,  although  I  had 
become  one  of  her  army  of  toilers. 

I  strolled  down  to  the  river  thinking  of  my  ob- 
jective point,  the  government  works  below  Mem- 
phis, which  would  afford  me  both  shelter  and  food. 
I  decided  to  reach  there  as  soon  as  possible.  The 
steamer,  Lucille  Knowland,  running  between 
Louisville  and  Evansville,  was  then  loading  freight 
and  was  scheduled  to  leave  the  next  day  at  two 
P.  M.  Approaching  a  pompous,  uniformed  officer 
I  asked  if  there  was  an  opportunity  for  a  man  to 
work  his  way  to  Evansville.  "  I  don't  know,"  he 
replied,  "Ask  the  cook."  I  left  at  once  for  the 
kitchen  where  I  found  a  large,  robust  colored  man, 
—  the  man  I  was  looking  for.  In  reply  to  my  in- 
quiry for  the  privilege  of  wrorking  my  passage  he 
kindly  answered,  "  I  think  so,  Jack.  Come  around 
at  one  o'clock  to-morrow  and  see  me." 

Going  up  the  street  I  met  another  unlucky,  a 
young  man  twenty-five  years  of  age,  a  cabinet 
finisher  by  trade.  We  exchanged  stories  of  woe, 
and  unconsciously  entered  into  a  partnership  of 
ideas  for  a  resting  place  that  night.  While  we 
sat  on  the  stringer  of  a  coal  chute,  a  poor  unfor- 
tunate victim  of  alcohol  came  drifting  near.  Over- 
hearing our  plans,  lie  stopped  and  told  us  of  a  bar- 


THE  SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         263 

ber  who  was  down  and  out  when  he  first  came  to 
Louisville,  and  that  he  never  refused  an  honest, 
homeless  man  the  privilege  of  sleeping  in  a  room 
in  the  rear  of  his  shop.  We  followed  the  dissi- 
pated fellow's  advice.  After  asking  the  barber  for 
a  night's  resting  place,  he  showed  us  the  room. 
There  were  only  a  few  old  quilts  on  the  floor,  to 
be  sure,  but  the  place  was  very  clean  and  a  good 
shelter.  When  we  awoke  the  next  morning,  the 
first  words  with  which  my  companion  greeted  me 
were,  "  When  I  dropped  to  sleep  last  night,  I  almost 
wished  I  would  never  wake  up.  To-day  is  as  yes- 
terday,—  the  same  uncertain  struggle."  Then  he 
whistled  a  little  and  hopefully  said,  "  But  I  may 
get  work  to-day." 

We  parted,  and  I  never  saw  him  again.  I  left 
for  my  place  of  work.  At  one  o'clock  sharp  I  was 
on  hand  at  the  kitchen  on  the  Lucille  Know- 
land.  The  big  cook  took  me  and  I  was  soon  bus- 
ily preparing  vegetables  for  my  passage. 

My  day  and  a  half  of  work  I  donated  to  the  es- 
tablishment I  had  just  left.  I  have  thought  of 
writing  them  that  they  might  use  it  as  an  advance- 
ment to  some  homeless  man  for  a  place  to  sleep 
for  a  week  until  he  could  draw  his  five  dollars  for 
seven  days'  work  twelve  hours  a  day. 

Just  before  the  boat  left,  a  negro  boy,  the  second 
cook,  appeared  on  the  scene  and  I  discovered  that 
John  Ray  (that  was  the  head  cook's  name)  was  not 
taking  me  because  he  needed  me,  but  simply  be- 


264  "BROKE" 

cause  he  wanted  to  help  me.  When  night  came  he 
spoke  to  one  of  the  officers  who  gave  me  as  fine  a 
state  room  as  there  was  in  the  officers'  cabin.  I 
fell  asleep,  but  at  midnight  I  was  suddenly 
awakened  by  a  black  face  thrust  in  at  the  door 
and  a  voice  excitedly  crying,  "  Get  up !  The  boat 
is  on  fire ! "  In  another  instant  I  was  out.  I 
saw  the  darkies,  with  trousers  in  one  hand  and 
shoes  in  the  other,  scared  speechless,  skidding  to 
the  fore  part  of  the  boat.  There  was  a  fire  down  in 
the  hold,  but  it  was  quickly  extinguished  without 
disturbing  a  passenger,  and  we  of  the  crew  were 
simply  called  to  fight  fire  if  necessary.  I  returned 
to  my  berth.  It  was  the  first  time  for  many  a  night 
that  I  had  enjoyed  the  comforts  of  a  bed.  I  slept 
unruffled  and  refreshingly  until  morning. 

The  second  morning  we  were  in  Evansville,  and 
as  I  left  John  Ray  I  took  him  by  the  hand  and 
said,  "  John  Ray,  if  I  ever  get  to  Heaven  I  will 
surely  find  you  there,  for  Heaven  is  made  up  of 
hearts  like  yours !  " 

In  Evansville  I  got  work  with  the  hope  of  being 
able  to  save  my  railroad  fare  to  Memphis  but  the 
pay  was  so  meager  I  could  scarcely  exist.  On  the 
return  of  the  man  whose  place  I  was  temporarily 
filling,  I  found  myself,  one  Sunday  the  last  of  Oc- 
tober, almost  broke  and  a  long  way  from  Memphis. 
As  I  was  walking  that  day  I  met  a  young  carpen- 
ter standing  on  a  corner  with  all  he  possessed  on 
this  earth  in  a  suitcase,  and  moneyless.  He  told 


THE  SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         265 

me  briefly  his  situation.  He  was  married, —  had  a 
beautiful  wife  and  a  little  golden-haired  baby  girl. 
But  his  wife  —  Ah,  well,  why  go  into  details! 
Circumstances  made  a  tramp  of  him.  That  was 
enough.  It  was  the  old  story  of  poverty,  fatal  to 
the  American  home.  He  was  unable  to  get  work 
in  Evansville  and  wTas  going  on  to  Birmingham, 
Alabama,  where  he  was  sure  of  employment.  He 
had  spent  the  past  night  in  an  office  chair,  with  the 
permission  of  the  night  clerk  of  a  hotel.  Several 
times  he  had  dropped  asleep  and  been  awakened 
(although  he  was  not  on  the  street)  by  the  police 
with  insulting  inquiries.  I  discovered  that  we 
were  of  the  same  mind  in  many  things.  He  did 
not  want  to  beat  or  steal  from  the  railroad  by  rid- 
ing a  blind  or  a  box  car.  Both  of  us  wanted  to 
work  our  way,  if  possible.  He  decided  to  peddle  or 
pawn  his  suit  case  and  clothes.  Not  being  able  to 
sell  them,  he  was  obliged  to  let  a  second-hand 
dealer  have  them  for  two  dollars.  Their  value  was 
fully  thirty-five. 

We  were  directed  two  miles  out  of  town  to  a 
place  called  Howe,  where  we  might  be  able  to  catch 
a  local  freight,  but  we  were  disappointed  in  an  op- 
portunity to  work  for  our  passage.  There  was  the 
great  Ohio  river,  spanned  by  a  ponderous  iron 
bridge,  miles  long,  which  must  be  crossed,  and  as 
no  one  was  allowed  to  walk  this  bridge,  our  only 
alternative  was  to  steal  a  ride.  Many  trains  pass- 
ing through  Howe  were  obliged  to  slow  up  and 


266  "BROKE" 

soon  we  were  safely  ensconced  in  a  side-door  Pull- 
man and  swinging  far  out  on  the  mighty  trestle  of 
iron  which  arched  the  stream.  I  had  broken  my 
contract.  We  soon  discovered  that  we  were  in  a 
car  which  had  been  in  a  wrreck  and  was  probably 
on  its  way  to  the  shops.  The  ponderous  sides  and 
great  heavy  roof  were  held  up  and  in  place  tem- 
porarily by  two-by-fours.  After  we  crossed  the 
bridge,  the  train  seemingly  attained  a  never-ending 
mile-a-minute  speed,  over  cross  roads,  switches  and 
springing  piles.  The  roof  and  sides  of  the  huge  car 
would  bend  down  and  groan  and  tremble  and 
swerve.  We  were  positive  that  the  next  instant 
we  would  be  crushed  to  death,  from  which  there 
seemed  absolutely  no  retreat.  To  have  leaped 
from  the  fast-moving  train  among  the  rocks  which 
lined  the  right  of  way,  would  have  been  fatal.  So 
having  nothing  else  to  hang  to,  we  hung  to  each 
other.  This  was  the  only  available  car.  A  sub- 
marine boat  or  an  aeroplane  was  a  life  preserver 
compared  to  our  vehicle.  But  a  shrill,  sharp  whis- 
tle, coming  at  that  time,  was  music.  We  were  ac- 
tually stopping.  The  train  pulled  out  and  left  us 
at  a  water-tank,  happy  in  our  release.  We  might 
have  been  in  Kansas  for  all  we  knew,  but  looking 
up  and  across  the  fields  we  saw  a  big  house  with  a 
huge  sign,  "  Whiskey  Distillery."  We  knew  we 
were  still  in  Kentucky. 

A  track  man  told  us  all  trains  stopped  there, 
which  was  encouraging.     It  was  now  late  in  the 


THE  SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         267 

day  and  there  would  be  no  more  trains  until  morn- 
ing. The  track  man  told  us  of  an  inn  not  far 
away.  We  went  there  and  spent  the  night. 

The  next  morning  we  found  ourselves  waiting 
at  the  track,  broke,  except  that  I  had  a  nickel  and 
the  carpenter  a  dime.  Soon  a  train  swung  into 
sight,  and  not  having  time  to  ask  permission  to 
work  our  wray,  we  quickly  boarded  an  empty  gon- 
dola. It  was  a  mixed  train  and  we  discovered  that 
it  was  a  freight  which  was  very  late.  Immediately 
at  the  first  station,  we  did  not  wait  for  the  train 
crew  to  hunt  us  out  and  probably  shovel  us  off, 
but  leaping  out,  we  ran  ahead.  Scarcely  before 
either  the  crew  or  ourselves  knew  it,  we  were  help- 
ing to  carry  sacks  of  oats,  and  what  not,  from  a 
car  into  the  station.  The  conductor  looked  at  us 
curiously.  When  the  work  at  that  point  was  done, 
he  said,  "  Come  on  back,  boys,  and  ride  in  the  ca- 
boose. No  use  of  you  fellers  sitting  out  there  in 
the  cold."  When  dinner  time  came,  the  train  crew 
shared  with  us  their  dinners,  and  so  we  worked 
along  with  hand  and  heart,  laughing  and  singing, 
until  ten  o'clock  found  us  in  Princeton,  Kentucky. 

While  sitting  in  the  depot,  with  no  place  to  sleep, 
one  of  the  station  employees,  kindly  inclined  and 
suspecting  our  position,  said,  "  Boys,  if  you  think 
of  trying  to  spend  the  night  here  you  had  better 
not  try  it,  for  you  are  liable  to  be  picked  up.  They 
arrested  a  bunch  of  out-of-work  men  here  just  the 
other  night."  We  then  crept  up  into  the  railroad 


268  "BROKE" 

yards,  to  a  cheap,  all-night  lunch  place  where  the 
owner  kindly  allowed  us  to  lie  down  in  a  dark 
corner  until  morning.  Then  my  pal  decided  to 
take  another  and  a  quicker  route  to  Birmingham 
than  the  one  I  had  planned,  which  was  to  go  by 
way  of  Paducah.  So  we  separated,  he  to  find  his 
desired  train,  I  to  find  mine.  I  was  told  by  a 
switchman  that  by  walking  out  about  a  mile  to  the 
signal-tower  I  could  catch  a  freight.  What  I  did 
catch  was  a  ponderous  coal  train,  and  mounting  a 
gondola  which  was  loaded  with  fine  nut  coal  heaped 
up  very  high  in  the  center,  I  was  soon  off. 

Custom  had  not  filled  me,  as  yet,  with  courage 
sufficient  to  ride  the  bumpers  between  the  cars 
where  the  slightest  accident  meant  instant  death. 
I  crawled  on  top  of  the  coal  and  into  a  small  vac- 
uum in  one  corner  which  was  caused  by  heaping 
the  coal  high  in  the  center.  I  felt  very  comfort- 
ably fixed  and  everything  worked  smoothly  up  the 
long  steep  grade  we  were  climbing  until  we  began 
to  descend.  When  we  commenced  plunging  like 
a  cyclone  through  woods  and  fields,  down  hills 
and  hollows,  I  saw  that  the  coal  was  fast  shifting 
down,  seeking  its  level  and  crowding  me  out  of  my 
pocket.  I  finally  reached  a  point  where  I  was  hang- 
ing on  to  the  corner  of  the  car  by  my  fingers  and 
toes  and  feeling  every  moment  that  I  would  be 
dashed  to  the  earth,  for  my  strength  was  almost 
gone.  Then  we  began  to  slow  down. 

When  we  reached  the  end  of  a  thirty-mile  run 


"  I  Finally  Reached  a  Point  Where  I  Was  Hanging  on  to  the 
Corner  of  the  Car  by  My  Fingers  and  Toes  " 


"  I  Would  Have  Continued  to  Ride  on  the  Top  as  Less  Dan- 
gerous, if  I  had  not  been  brutally  forced  on  to  the  rods  " 


THE  SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         269 

we  stopped  for  water.  I  had  about  decided  to 
walk  to  Memphis,  but  just  then  an  old  darkey 
came  along  with  a  span  of  mules  hitched  to  the 
running  gears  of  a  wagon,  who  was  going  five  miles 
on  my  way.  I  asked  could  I  ride.  "  Sho'  nuff, 
sho'  nuff,"  was  the  answer,  and  we  were  soon 
astride  the  reach,  exchanging  black  and  white 
thoughts.  Everything  was  serenely  pleasant. 
The  old  darkey  had  just  been  praising  his  mules 
for  the  virtue  of  being  reliable  when  an  automobile 
hove  into  sight,  coming  directly  toward  us.  Those 
mules  jumped  straight  up  in  the  air,  plunged  past 
the  automobile,  and  with  the  swiftness  of  a  scared 
wolf  ran  down  the  road  to  the  first  turn  to  the 
right,  which  they  took  in  spite  of  the  old  darkey. 
In  turning  they  tipped  the  skeleton  of  the  wagon 
to  such  a  degree  that  we  were  both,  spilled  by  the 
roadside.  Luckily  the  earth  was  deep  and  soft, 
and  we  escaped  injury  except  a  few  bruises,  but  it 
was  a  sudden  parting  of  the  ways.  I  caught  a  last 
glimpse  of  the  old  negro  at  the  brow  of  the  hill,  on 
the  run  after  the  mules,  just  as  I  reached  the  rail- 
road track,  quite  content  to  try  walking  again  for 
awhile. 

I  kept  near  to  my  beaten  path,  the  railroad,  and 
was  told  that  five  miles  beyond  was  a  point  where 
all  trains  stopped.  I  discovered  I  could  not  walk 
much  further.  I  was  lame  and  sore  and  my  shoes 
were  worn  out.  I  had  now  become,  in  the  eyes  of 
both  the  railroad  and  myself,  a  hardened  criminal 


270  "BROKE" 

and  could  steal  a  ride  without  self-imputation. 
After  walking  what  seemed  to  me  a  very  long  way 
I  found  myself  exhausted.  Having  eaten  nothing 
since  the  noon  before,  that  which  I  had  then  being 
given  me  from  the  dinner  pail  of  the  railroad  man, 
I  felt  the  need  of  food.  Seeing  a  large  Kentucky 
farm  house  crowning  a  hill  not  far  away,  I  ap- 
proached it. 

Sitting  on  the  wide  piazza,  in  struggling  rays  of 
sunlight  which  played  through  golden  autumn 
leaves  and  vines  festooned  with  an  aftermath 
of  purple  blossoms,  sat  an  elderly  gentleman 
whose  very  mien  seemed  bubbling  over  with  good 
nature.  Beside  him  sat  his  motherly-looking 
wife. 

"  Will  you  give  me  the  privilege  of  working  for 
something  to  eat?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ma,  can  you  give  this  hungry  man  something  to 
eat?"  But  Ma  was  already  up  and  half  way  to 
the  kitchen.  They  gave  me  all  I  could  eat  and  a 
nicely  tied-up  lunch,  as  they  said,  "  for  a  time  of 
need."  When  I  had  eaten  I  asked, 

"  Now  what  can  I  do  for  you?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  for  you  to  do.  You  are  very 
welcome.  We  are  always  glad  to  help  a  tired  man. 
No  one  is  ever  turned  away  from  the  door  of  old 
Colonel  Chandler's."  Then,  in  response  to  a  ques- 
tion of  mine,  he  replied,  "  No ;  Ma,  there,  is  the 
Christian  side  of  the  house.  With  me  it  is  just  a 
spiritual  law,  I  guess." 


THE   SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         271 

I  caught  a  train  of  empty  flat  stone  cars.  Lying 
prone  on  one  of  these  I  rode  five  miles.  We 
stopped.  It  was  the  terminal  for  that  train,  and 
a  stopping  place  for  all  trains.  I  waited.  In  a 
short  time  another  freight  pulled  in.  From  an 
empty  box  car  came  a  familiar  voice,  "  Hello !  " 

I  sought  the  voice  and  found  it  was  my  pal,  the 
carpenter,  who  had  not  succeeded  in  going  his  way 
and  so  had  decided  to  come  mine.  He  was 
famished  from  hunger.  The  lunch  from  Colonel 
Chandler's  was  already  needed  to  raise  a  man 
from  the  dust.  "  The  time  of  need "  had  come. 
The  night  was  upon  us,  and  we  were  yet  twenty -two 
miles  from  Paducah.  We  were  suffering  intensely 
from  the  cold,  and  while  we  waited  for  a  relief 
train  we  built  a  fire  by  the  track.  No  sooner  had 
we  done  so  than  from  out  of  the  darkness  some- 
where we  were  joined  by  three  other  destitute  men, 
bound  our  way. 

Immediately  a  train  came  in  sight.  It  was  made 
up  mostly  of  oil  tanks  and  the  only  possible  way 
to  ride,  except  on  the  rods  and  brake  beams,  was 
to  lie  flat  down  under  one  of  the  huge  oil  tanks 
and  hang  on.  But  it  had  rained  somewhere  and 
the  rain  had  frozen  as  it  fell.  The  train  was 
covered  with  ice.  The  three  other  men  took  the 
advantage  offered,  regardless  of  all  danger,  but  my 
pal  and  I,  both  novices,  had  not  the  courage,  and 
as  one  of  the  men  swung  on,  cognizant  of  our  fear, 
he  called  out, 


272  "BROKE" 

"  Ob,  come  on.  You  can't  beat  a  train  and  be 
an  old  woman." 

I  began  to  realize  the  physical  courage  necessary 
in  the  make-up  and  character  of  the  man  obliged 
to  work  and  wander,  to  beat  a  railroad,  braving 
dangers  which  from  1901  to  1905,  inclusive,  killed 
twenty-three  thousand,  nine  hundred  trespassers, 
and  injured  twenty-five  thousand,  two  hundred 
and  thirty-six,  and  each  year  shows  no  decrease.  In 
this  wonderful  example  of  physical  courage  in  these 
migratory  workers,  worthy  of  our  deepest  concern, 
we  cannot  help  but  catch  the  spirit  of  a  greater 
courage  in  other  workingmen  —  of  one  who  freed 
four  million  slaves;  of  one  who,  nearly  two  thou- 
sand years  ago,  dared  to  enter  the  temple  and  cast 
out  the  thieves  and  the  money-changers. 

We  had  not  long  to  wait.  A  moment  later  my 
companion  and  I  were  hidden  in  a  box  car  of  a 
following  train.  After  an  hour's  ride  in  the  dark- 
ness, we  found  ourselves  seeking  in  a  strange  city 
(Paducah,  Kentucky),  a  place  of  rest.  As  we 
passed  through  the  yards  we  saw  a  policeman  strik- 
ing matches  or  throwing  bulls'  eyes  into  empty  cars, 
looking  for  such  men  as  we  were. 

Aimlessly  we  wandered  into  the  city.  Just  as 
the  clock  in  the  city  hall  tower  was  striking  the 
hour  of  nine,  we  passed  a  window  on  which  was 
lettered,  "  Charity  Club  Rest  Room."  The  name 
looked  good  to  us  and  we  went  in.  A  pleasant 
woman  in  charge  told  us  she  could  not  do  anything 


R 


IDL\G  a  Standard  Oil  Car 


"   A  FTER  Becoming  Almost  Helpless  from  Numbness  by  C'oin  ing 
in  Contact  trit/i  the  Frozen  Steel  Shelf  of  the  Car  I  Stood 
Up  and  Clung  to  the  Tank  Shielding  My  Face  from  the  Storm  " 


THE   SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         273 

then,  but  gave  us  a  note  to  the  police  station,  tell- 
ing us  that  Captain  Doran  had  a  few  beds  for  home- 
less men,  and  that  we  might  also  try  the  Salvation 
Army,  telling  us  how  to  find  it.  We  felt  that  it 
would  be  preferable  to  the  jail,  and  after  another 
two-mile  walk  we  found  the  Army  headquarters. 
We  shouted,  called,  whistled,  and  even  rattled  the 
doors,  but  no  response.  That  cry  in  the  night  was 
a  familiar  one  to  them.  It  had  become  common 
and  the  bruised  in  Pacucah  could  go  elsewhere  —  so 
far  as  they  were  concerned.  Retracing  our  steps, 
we  sought  Police  Headquarters.  There  was  no 
other  way.  Our  little  note  from  the  Charity  Rest 
Room  engendered  a  feeling  of  security,  and  we  felt 
that,  though  helpless,  we  would  not  be  committed 
to  prison  and  the  chain  gang.  The  captain  had  no 
beds,  but  we  were  told  to  go  into  the  police  court 
room  and  lie  on  the  benches.  Broken,  famished, 
exhausted,  we  lay  down  on  the  three-slat  benches 
and  were  soon  lost  in  a  profound  slumber  from 
which  we  were  only  once  disturbed  when  the  chief 
of  city  detectives  came  in  and  turned  on  the  lights, 
exercising  what  we  supposed  was  his  prerogative, 
and  obliged  us  to  tell  him  our  pedigrees  from  Adam 
down.  But  we,  undoubtedly,  looked  all  right  to 
him,  for  we  were  left  to  our  rest  until  the  sweepers 
came  at  five  o'clock.  The  slats  were  cutting  and 
hard.  I  awoke  several  times  and  in  my  wakeful 
moments  heard  the  carpenter  murmur  the  name  of 
a  little  golden-haired  baby  girl,  away  up  in  a 


274  "BROKE" 

northern  Indiana  home.  We  left,  unmolested. 
My  pal  was  staked  to  a  breakfast  by  a  brother 
craftsman  and  told  where  he  could  find  work  in 
a  nearby  town.  I  cut  wood  for  a  good  woman  for 
half  an  hour  with  a  stone  hammer,  for  one  of  the 
best  breakfasts  cooked  that  morning  in  Paducah. 
She  was  the  wife  of  a  man  who  was  employed  in 
the  railroad  shops.  Here  the  carpenter  and  I 
parted,  not  to  meet  again.  He  never  learned  my 
identity. 

I  preferred  river  travel,  if  possible,  and  applied 
to  the  steamer  Dick  Fowler  for  the  privilege 
of  working  my  way  to  Cairo,  but  was  emphatically 
refused.  The  boat  wTas  due  to  leave.  Deck  fare 
was  seventy-five  cents,  which  I  did  not  have.  But 
I  noticed  a  man, —  apparently  a  business  man  of 
Paducah,  who  wore  a  fraternity  badge  of  an  order 
to  which  I  belonged,  in  conference  with  the  Cap- 
tain. I  showed  my  color  in  good  standing  and 
asked  the  loan  of  seventy-five  cents.  He  gave  me 
a  dollar.  Again  I  had  broken  my  contract, —  at 
least  I  had  begged  a  loan. 

Reaching  Cairo,  I  walked  a  mile  to  a  point  where 
without  difficulty  I  could  catch  a  freight  on  the 
I.  C.,  bound  south.  But  this  freight  train  ran  no 
farther  than  Fulton,  a  town  a  hundred  and  forty 
miles  from  Memphis.  It  was  nine  o'clock  when  I 
reached  there,  and  was  exceptionally  cold  for  that 
time  of  the  year.  I  still  had  the  remaining  quar- 


THE  SOUTH— LOUISVILLE         275 

ter  of  my  dollar.  Although  the  demands  of  hunger 
were  strong  and  I  was  so  broken  for  rest,  I  de- 
cided in  favor  of  a  bed.  I  was  told  where  I  could 
find  one  for  that  price.  It  was  a  clean,  comfort- 
able, soft  bed.  In  an  instant  I  was  lost  in  deep 
slumber  and  my  aches  and  pains  were  being  cured, 
my  cares  forgotten.  Work  even  for  breakfast  was 
not  to  be  had  in  Fulton,  at  least  in  all  the  places 
I  had  tried.  I  perhaps  could  stand  it  until  reach- 
ing Memphis  if  I  could  get  away  quickly.  Going 
out  to  a  point  where  all  trains  would  slow  up,  I 
found  two  negroes,  waiting  with  the  same  object 
in  view.  Seated  on  the  ground  by  a  camp  fire 
they  were  actually  eating  breakfast,  consisting  of 
some  late  corn,  pretty  old  and  tough,  yet  full  of 
milk,  which  they  had  plucked  from  a  nearby  field 
and  roasted  on  the  bright  coals.  The  moment  I 
joined  them,  one  inquired, 

"Yo'all  had  breakfast?" 

To  my  negative  answer,  he  said,  "Hep  yo'sef, 
man."  They  had  salt,  and  there  and  at  that  time 
it  was  the  most  refreshing  green  corn  ever  roasted. 
It  satisfied  me.  I  was  ready  to  continue  the  bat- 
tle. 

The  weather  grew  colder.  It  began  to  spit  snow. 
Presently  a  mixed  freight  train  hove  in  sight  and 
my  black  friends  made  a  dash  for  the  forward  cars. 
I  chose  what  seemed  to  be  an  empty  gondola  about 
midway  of  the  train,  but  it  proved  to  be  about  two- 


276  "BROKE" 

thirds  full  of  Portland  cement.  After  the  train 
started  the  brakeman  came  back  over  the  train 
and  seeing  me,  asked,  "Where  are  you 
going?  " 

"  To  Memphis." 

"  Got  any  money?  " 

"  No." 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  see  the  flagman  then." 

"  All  right,  at  the  first  stop." 

"  No,  you  will  have  to  do  it  now." 

"  I  am  not  used  to  walking  mixed  freight  trains 
in  motion.  I  can't  do  it." 

"  Yes,  you  can  too." 

"  You  go  to  the  devil." 

He  passed  on.  I  would  not  have  run  that  train 
for  ten  thousand  dollars.  When  we  got  full  under 
way,  I  almost  wished  I  had  tried  to  do  so  for  the 
ever-increasing  wind  caught  the  cement  and  hurled 
it  into  clouds  of  dust  which  enveloped  me  in  a 
dense,  fine  powder,  filling  my  eyes,  nose,  mouth 
and  ears.  Several  times  I  was  positive  my  respi- 
ration had  ceased.  It  was  with  no  small  degree 
of  joy,  therefore,  that  I  hailed  the  first  stop. 
Whooping,  coughing,  sneezing,  I  got  out  of  there 
and  crept  into  an  empty  box  car  a  little  farther 
back.  I  congratulated  myself  on  this  shelter  and 
good  luck,  when  the  flagman,  who  was  on  the  look- 
out for  me,  stuck  his  head  in  the  door  saying, 
"  Hello,  old  timer.  Where  are  you  going? "  I 
thought  I  was  a  novice,  and  here  I  was  being  hailed 


THE  SOUTH— LOUISVILLE        277 

as  an  old  timer.  My  head  swelled  as  big  as  a  Super- 
intendent of  the  Pullman  Company. 

"  I  am  going  to  Memphis  if  God  and  this  train- 
crew  will  let  me." 

"  Have  you  any  money?  " 

"No." 

"Have  you  a  card?" 

"  No." 

"Well,  you  can't  ride  this  train." 

The  train  was  moving.  "  Let  me  ride  to  the  next 
stop." 

"  Well,  if  you  do,  you  will  get  off  in  the  woods." 

Half  believing  he  meant  it  I  leaped  from  the 
train.  I  did  not  have  long  to  wait,  for  very  soon 
another  mixed  train  came  thundering  along.  As 
it  slacked  up,  the  only  advantage  offered  was  an- 
other of  the  Standard  Oil  tank  cars.  However,  it 
was  not  covered  with  ice.  I  crawled  in  under  the 
huge  tank,  lay  flat  down  on  my  belly,  and  hung  on 
to  the  rods.  As  yet  I  had  only  made  about  twelve 
miles.  As  we  sped  on,  I  felt  relieved  that  we  were 
cutting  down  the  miles.  At  the  first  stop,  a  voice 
greeted  me. 

"  Hello."  It  was  one  of  my  negro  friends.  He 
also  had  been  ditched  from  the  first  train  and  had 
caught  this  one.  His  black  pal  was  lost  in  the 
scuffle  somewhere,  and  we  did  not  see  him  again. 
Just  as  the  negro  spoke  to  me  the  conductor  and 
brakeman  came  rushing  up  to  the  car.  Just  ahead 
of  our  tank  car,  was  a  carload  of  valuable  horses. 


278  "BROKE" 

After  looking  them  over,  as  they  turned  to  go  back, 
the  conductor  spied  us,  and  with  stress,  shaded 
with  oratory  of  brilliant  hue,  he  ordered  us  off. 
Because  the  train  wras  moving,  however,  he  did  not 
wait  to  see  if  we  obeyed. 

At  the  next  stop,  I  leaped  from  my  position  and 
began  looking  over  the  horses.  Three  of  them  were 
down.  I  immediately  ran  to  the  side  of  the  right 
of  way  and  getting  a  long  reed  began  to  prod  them 
up.  The  darkey,  seeing  the  crew  coming,  hid  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  train.  The  conductor  com- 
ing up  said,  "  That's  right.  I  wish  you  would  keep 
your  eye  on  those  horses  into  Memphis,"  and  I 
knew  I  was  secure  for  a  ride. 

"Where  is  that  nigger?"  asked  the  conductor 
with  emphasis. 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  all  I  said.  But  I  did  know 
that  he  would  be  on  the  train  as  soon  as  it  started, 
and  he  was.  At  the  next  stop,  I  said  to  him,  "  Get 
a  rod  and  help  me  with  the  horses."  This  he  did. 
There  were  four  of  them  down,  but  before  the  con- 
ductor could  get  to  us,  we  had  them  all  up.  He 
saw  us  at  work  and  called  from  two  car-lengths 
away, 

"Are  they  all  right,  boys?" 

"  All  right,"  we  answered  back.  It  was  "  boys  " 
now,  and  I  knew  that  the  black,  too,  was  safe. 

At  nine  o'clock,  having  been  joined  by  three  more 
white  men,  we  finally  rolled  into  Memphis. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

MEMPHIS  —  A  CITY'S  FAULT  AND  A  NATION'S  WRONG 

"  Society  must  necessarily  look  at  these  things  because  they  are 
created  by  it." — HUGO. 

ON  my  arrival  in  Memphis  I  was  greeted  by 
a  severe  storm.  Although  chilled  and  al- 
most starving  my  first  desire  was  to  se- 
cure my  baggage,  which  I  had  sent  on  from  Cleve- 
land, and  go  to  a  hotel.  But  there  were  the  condi- 
tions of  the  homeless  and  needy  of  Memphis  to  be 
studied.  Under  what  more  convincing  and 
truthful  conditions  could  I  find  need  in  Memphis 
for  the  erection  and  maintenance  of  a  Municipal 
Emergency  Home?  So  with  renewed  determina- 
tion I  decided  to  learn  of  what  Memphis  had  to 
offer  to  the  homeless,  hungry  worker. 

My  brisk  walk  from  the  railroad  yards  to  the 
heart  of  the  city  warmed  my  thoroughly-numbed 
body.  I  realized  that  I  must  have  food.  I  was  at 
my  goal.  Here  was  a  chance  to  work  for  the 
government.  I  expected  to  be  shipped  on  the  first 
boat.  I  know  my  personal  appearance  was  de- 
cidedly against  me  as  I  entered  Memphis.  Soiled, 

279 


280  "BROKE" 

black,  unshaven,  unwashed,  I  felt  certain  of  arrest 
if  seen  by  the  police.  Entering  several  hotels  I 
asked  work  for  a  meal,  but  was  promptly  denied. 
The  good  things  glowed  in  the  dining-room  win- 
dows. People  seated  at  tables  were  eating  all  and 
everything  they  wanted.  Outside  on  the  street, 
well-dressed  people  hurried  on  to  their  homes. 
Must  I  beg,  after  all?  No.  Here,  too,  it  was 
against  the  city  ordinance  as  well  as  against  my 
contract.  I  decided  to  try  one  more  place.  I 
entered  one  of  the  largest  restaurants  and  approach- 
ing the  manager,  I  said, 

"  I  am  hungry.  Can  I  do  something  for  you  for 
a  little  to  eat?" 

He  looked  me  squarely  in  the  eye  with  a  merry 
twinkle  in  his  own  and  said, 

"  You  look  like  the  devil.  Just  drop  in  on  a  coal 
special?  " 

"  No,  a  Standard  Oil,"  I  answered. 

"Go  back  there,"  pointing  toward  the  kitchen, 
"  wash  up,  get  some  supper.  My  silver  man  has 
not  shown  up  yet.  If  he  does  not,  help  them  out 
in  there." 

What  a  feast  that  supper,  for  which  I  worked 
half  an  hour!  What  the  black  cook  did  not 
give  me  was  not  in  the  restaurant.  The  silver  man 
came,  and  I  was  again  on  the  street.  I  was  grow- 
ing so  weary  and  felt  the  need  of  sleep,  but  with 
a  clean  face  and  clean  hands,  and  a  brush  up, 


A  CITY'S  FAULT— MEMPHIS       281 

I  had  the  courage  to  ask  a  policeman  where  I  could 
get  a  free  bed.  He  replied, 

"  In  the  jungles,  or  the  jail.  But  I  advise  you 
not  to  go  to  the  jail  unless  you  have  to." 

At  last,  because  forced  to  do  so,  I  applied 
at  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  They  could  not  think  of  giving 
a  bath,  meal  or  bed  to  a  homeless  man  in  their 
beautiful  palace,  but  gave  me  a  ticket  to  the  Gos- 
pel Union  Mission  on  Front  Street.  This  was  an 
old  building  partly  destroyed  by  fire,  which  had 
been  condemned  by  the  city,— a  place  fairly  reek- 
ing with  filth,  sewer  gas,  and  vermin.  The  Y.  M. 
C.  A.  of  Memphis  would  have  committed  a  more 
Christian  act  to  have  literally  kicked  me  into  the 
street  or  turned  me  over  to  the  police.  But  what 
did  they  care?  I  had  been  gotten  rid  of  and  was 
no  longer  a  concern  of  theirs. 

The  old  man  at  the  Mission  was  reluctant  to 
give  me  a  bed  for  the  night  even  with  an  order 
from  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  He  would  so  much,  rather 
have  had  the  ten  cents.  He  told  me  I  would  have 
to  saw  wood  the  next  morning  for  the  privilege  of 
sleeping  there,  which  I  did.  Water  was  an  un- 
known quantity,  at  least  as  far  as  a  bath  went,  and 
no  food  was  offered.  The  horrible  experience  I 
went  through  at  the  Hope  Rescue  Mission  of  Louis- 
ville did  not  exceed  my  experience  in  this  awful 
place. 

In  the  morning  I  hurried  to  the  Post  Office  ex- 


282  "BROKE" 

pecting  letters  and  money,  but  the  letters  had  been 
delayed.  I  knew  absolutely  no  one  in  Memphis. 
I  went  to  the  office  of  the  government  works  to 
see  about  my  shipment.  The  boat  would  not  leave 
until  the  following  day  so  I  was  forced  to  spend  an- 
other night  in  Memphis.  As  there  was  no  other 
place,  I  was  obliged  to  spend  that  night  in  the 
jungles, —  the  dense  woods  and  willows  which  line 
the  river  bank.  I  had  to  do  this  if  I  wished  to  see 
what  it  meant  to  be  destitute  in  Memphis.  I  made 
my  way  to  the  jungle.  I  was  not  alone.  There 
were  six  other  destitute  men  there.  Four  of  these 
men  were  skilled  craftsmen,  all  were  Americans. 
The  other  two  were  unskilled  laborers,  one  a  Ger- 
man, the  other  a  Swede.  During  the  wakeful  mo- 
ments of  that  long,  cold  night  I  learned  from  each 
of  these  men  that  the  reasons  for  his  being  there 
were  just  and  honorable.  All  of  the  men  were  on 
their  way  to  work.  None  of  them  were  over  thirty 
years  of  age.  Two  were  not  yet  twenty-one.  They 
called  each  other  "  Pal."  Four  of  the  men  had  al- 
ready received  transportation  on  the  steamboat 
Kate  Adams,  to  leave  on  the  next  day  for  Walnut 
Bend,  where  they  were  to  labor  on  the  government 
works  riprapping  the  river  banks  with  willows. 
They  were  to  receive  a  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents 
a  day  with  board  if  they  remained  over  a  week  on 
the  job.  If  not,  they  were  to  receive  but  one  dol- 
lar a  day  for  ten  hours'  work.  The  German  and 
the  Swede  were  on  their  way  to  a  railroad  camp 


A  CITY'S  FAULT— MEMPHIS       283 

where  work  awaited  them.  Because  they  had  no 
transportation  they  were  compelled  to  work  or 
beat  their  way  to  their  destination.  Two  of  these 
men  had  just  money  enough  for  a  meager  break- 
fast. It  was  a  question  in  their  minds  whether 
to  go  without  the  breakfast  or  a  bed.  They  decided 
to  deny  themselves  the  latter.  The  others  were 
penniless  and  had  to  win  their  breakfasts  in  some 
way  or  continue  to  starve.  They  were  all  com- 
fortably clothed.  The  Swede's  suit  seemed  a  par- 
ticularly good  one,  but  in  the  approaching  daylight 
it  was  discovered  that,  while  lying  too  near  the  fire, 
he  had  burned  out  one  side  of  his  coat  and  one 
trouser  leg.  Noticing  this  he  remarked,  "  Well, 
boys  I  must  sneak  out  of  town  unseen,  in  a  hurry, 
for  if  the  police  see  me  now  they  will  arrest  me 
without  question."  He  and  others  expressed  a  fear 
that  I  also  felt  all  through  that  awful  night  —  the 
fear  of  the  Memphis  police.  I  decided  to  postpone 
my  study  of  the  government  works. 

A  week  later  I  met  one  of  the  "  pals."  He  told 
me  the  food  down  on  the  government  works  was 
good,  for  coarse  food,  and  there  was  plenty  of  it, 
but  the  sleeping  accommodations  were  extremely 
bad.  "  I  would  have  stayed,"  he  said,  "  although 
the  work  was  such  that  I  wore  out  clothes  faster 
than  my  wages  would  replace  them,  but  the  water 
made  me  ill.  Then,  too,  I  saw  a  man  drowned. 
After  that  I  didn't  care  to  stay." 

Explaining  the  tragedy,  he  said,  "You  see  it 


284  "BROKE" 

was  this  way.  We  were  working  with  the  willows 
from  a  barge  in  the  river.  The  boy  lost  his  bal- 
ance and  fell  into  the  stream.  The  treacherous 
current  instantly  swept  him  from  the  barge.  He 
tried  to  swim  back.  God!  I  never  saw  such  a 
trial  of  strength  for  life.  With  the  strong  Indian 
overstroke,  the  muscles  stood  out  on  his  arms  and 
neck  like  cords  of  rope,  wrought  to  such  a  tension 
it  seemed  as  if  the  slightest  blow  would  have 
snapped  them  like  glass.  But  the  look  of  anguish 
on  his  face !  If  I  could  only  forget  that !  Almost 
exhausted,  and  seeing  that  his  efforts  to  reach  the 
barge  were  in  vain,  he  turned  to  swim  down 
stream  and  toward  the  shore,  but  a  whirlpool 
caught  him.  For  an  instant  he  raised  his  cal- 
loused hands  above  his  head,  and  then  —  all  was 
over.  No  sooner  had  he  disappeared  than  the  boss 
demanded,  with  a  violent  oath,  i  Bring  on  the  wil- 
lows.' " 

"  Were  there  no  means  of  rescue  provided  for 
such  an  emergency?"  I  asked  in  horror. 

His  answer  was  nothing  but  the  mention  of  the 
existence  of  so  much  red  tape  that  a  boat  could 
not  be  provided  which  might  possibly  have  saved 
that  young  man's  life. 

The  man  was  so  visibly  affected  while  relating 
the  incident  that  I  was  led  to  inquire  the  cause. 
He  replied,  as  he  abruptly  left  me, 

"  He  was  our  pal  that  night  in  the  jungles  — 
my  pal." 


A  CITY'S  FAULT— MEMPHIS       285 

After  hearing  of  this  tragedy,  I  definitely  de- 
cided not  to  go  at  all  to  the  government  works. 

So  filled  was  I  with  the  obvious  neglect  by  the 
city  of  Memphis  of  its  toilers,  I  decided  to  tell  thp 
people  of  that  city  something  of  their  thought- 
lessness towards  their  homeless  and  needy  workers, 
for  whom  they  failed  to  provide  food  and  shelter. 
So  I  called  on  the  mayor  and  other  influential  citi- 
zens, telling  them  of  my  experiences  and  appealing 
to  them  to  make  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home 
possible.  All  wrere  in  hearty  sympathy  writh  me. 
On  invitation  I  met  the  City  Club,  an  organization 
made  up  of  the  progressive  business  men  of  the 
city.  Following  my  appeal  to  them,  a  Municipal 
Emergency  Home  Committee  was  appointed. 

Leaving  Memphis  I  went  on  to  Birmingham, 
Alabama,  that  wonderfully  active  city,  which  be- 
cause of  its  industries  calls  thousands  of  working- 
men  annually  within  its  gate.  My  first  effort  here 
for  the  wrorker  without  the  dime  was  to  try  to  get 
medical  treatment.  Finding  the  dispensary  closed 
at  nine  A.  MV  I  was  told  it  wras  open  only  one 
hour  in  the  day,  from  twelve  to  one  o'clock.  The 
same  conditions  existed  here  in  regard  to  the  pri- 
vate charities  as  existed  in  other  cities.  Late  in 
the  afternoon  I  met  a  bricklayer,  who  told  me  in 
a  casual  way  that  a  few  weeks  before,  he  had 
reached  Birmingham,  broke,  and  had  been  taken 
care  of  in  a  "  speak  easy  "  near  the  Louisville  and 
Nashville  Depot,  which  is  filled  with  evil  men  and 


286  "BROKE" 

women.  I  had  given  him  the  impression  that  I 
was  down  and  out.  "  They'll  treat  you  right 
there,"  he  said.  "  It  is  the  only  place  I  know  of. 
Go  there."  Then  he  added,  "  I'll  bet  you're  hun- 
gry," and  as  he  left  he  offered  me  a  quarter. 

Later  in  the  evening,  while  I  stood  on  a  down- 
town corner,  a  well-dressed,  intelligent-looking 
man  slapped  me  on  the  shoulder  and  said, 

"  Beg  pardon.    Are  you  a  railroad  man  ?  " 

"  In  a  way,"  I  replied. 

"  Can  you  direct  me  to  the  round-house?  " 

"  No.  What  is  the  matter,  want  a  place  to 
sleep?  " 

"  That  is  just  it.  Here  is  my  union  card.  I 
happened  to  hit  town  broke.  Don't  know  a  soul, 
and  don't  know  any  of  the  boys.  I  know  I  could 
spend  the  night  at  the  round-house,  if  I  could 
find  it." 

Even  here  the  jail  denied  shelter  and  the  Salva- 
tion Army  had  nothing  to  offer  a  penniless  man.  I 
felt  my  going  to  Birmingham  was  at  an  opportune 
time  as  the  Alabama  Federation  of  Women's 
Clubs  was  in  convention,  and  a  beautiful,  gracious 
lady,  their  State  President,  Mrs.  Ferris  Columan, 
kindly  granted  me  a  hearing.  When  I  left  I  was 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  I  left  a  thought  which 
would  be  carried  to  a  great  many  of  the  kind  hearts 
of  Alabama. 

I  went  on  down  to  Mobile,  then  to  New  Orleans. 
Wherever  I  went,  all  through  the  South,  I  heard 


A  CITY'S  FAULT— MEMPHIS       287 

the  cry  in  the  night  of  cruel  abuse  and  neglect  of 
the  wage-slave  just  as  I  heard  it  all  through  the 
North.  I  saw  the  blood  drops  of  the  peon,  the 
broken,  bruised  and  lacerated  bodies  of  human  be- 
ings leased  from  the  prison  to  the  convict  camp. 
I  heard  the  unceasing  cry  of  woe  from  stone  walls 
and  iron  bars,  the  mad  shrieks  from  dungeon  cells 
and  torture  chambers  and  the  terror-striking  bay 
of  the  bloodhound. 

While  what  I  have  written  of  will  remain  an  in- 
curable wound,  when  I  carried  the  message  of  pro- 
gress, of  justice  and  love,  a  plea  for  an  institution 
for  labor,  for  health,  and  for  brotherly  care,  into 
the  labor  councils,  the  progressive  Business  Men's 
Union,  composed  of  three  hundred  citizens,  and  the 
Women's  Clubs  (especially  the  Era  Club),  the  in- 
tense interest  shown  by  all  of  these  for  the  op- 
pressed heralds  an  illumined  page  in  history  and 
bespeaks  a  glorious  victory  for  the  South. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

HOUSTON — -THE   CHURCH   AND   THE   CITY'S    SIN 
AGAINST  SOCIETY 

"  Do  no  wrong,  do  no  violence  to   the  stranger." — JEBEMIAH, 
22:3. 

THE  weather  was  bright  and  cold  when  I 
reached  Texas.  As  I  walked  the  streets  of 
Houston  I  noticed  that  the  police  glanced 
at  me  suspiciously.  Several  of  them,  by  their 
looks,  seemed  to  be  weighing  my  worth.  After  my 
arrival  in  this  city,  from  morning  until  night  I 
walked  its  streets  in  search  of  work,  until  com- 
pelled by  the  shadows  of  the  night  to  seek  a  free 
place  to  rest. 

During  all  my  earnest  endeavors  that  day  the 
only  opportunity  for  work  came  from  a  labor  solic- 
itor offering  me  a  dollar  a  day  and  board  to  work 
ten  hours  a  day  in  the  woods. 

"  How  do  they  feed  you?  "  I  asked. 

"  As  good  as  in  any  camp."  ( I  knew  all  that 
meant.) 

"  What  are  the  sleeping  accommodations  like?  " 

288 


CHURCH  AND   CITY'S   SIN  289 

"  Well,  it  is  a  new  camp,  and,  of  course,  they  are 
not  the  best." 

"  What  is  the  fare  to  the  camp?  " 

"  Five  dollars." 

"  Do  you  pay  the  fare  there?  " 

"  No,  but  we  advance  it  to  you  and  take  it  out 
of  your  pay." 

"  Is  my  pay  assured  when  my  work  is  done?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  You  will  be  working  for  a  mighty 
big  corporation  of  Chicago,  worth  millions  of  dol- 
lars." 

"  But  when  I  reach  there  I  am  five  dollars  in 
debt  to  you.  Suppose  that  I  did  not  want  to  stay, 
or  that  I  couldn't  stand  the  work,  or  that  I  might 
be  taken  ill,  or  that  there  should  be  some  reasons 
why  I  could  not  work,  my  only  bond  is  my  body, 
what  then?" 

His  face  flushed.  "  I  suppose  I  could  run  away 
if  I  had  the  strength,"  I  continued,  "  and  if  I  did, 
what  then?"  The  already  flushed  face  turned 
scarlet. 

"  My  friend,"  I  said,  "  for  a  mere  pittance  and  a 
subsistence  that  you  cannot  recommend,  you  would 
make  of  me  and  these  other  destitute  laborers  a 
peon  with  all  the  wicked  evils  of  that  slavery. 
Being  a  workingman  yourself  is  the  only  excuse 
to  be  given  you  for  filling  the  position  as  solicitor 
for  human  lives." 

After  several  futile  efforts  to  secure  work  on  the 
following  day,  I  was  advised  by  all  institutions 


290  "BROKE" 

which  stood  supposedly  to  help  the  destitute  in 
Houston  to  the  "  Star  of  Hope  Mission."  It  was 
after  ten  o'clock  when  I  arrived  there  and  as  I 
entered  I  noticed  several  exceedingly  well-groomed, 
well-dressed  and  well-fed  men  who  looked  as  though 
they  were  getting  about  six  square  meals  a  day. 
Innocent  of  who  they  were  and  why  they  were 
there,  I  stepped  up  to  an  attendant  at  the  desk, 
saying,  "  Would  you  give  a  man  who  is  broke  a 
bed? "  Absolutely  and  purposely  ignoring  me, 
the  man,  in  a  gloating  voice  and  obtrusive  manner, 
turned  to  one  of  these  men  in  evidence,  who  proved 
to  be  one  William  Kessler,  Chief  of  City  Detec- 
tives, and  said,  "  Here  is  a  man  who  wants  us  to 
give  him  a  free  bed." 

Immediately  this  officer,  within  "this  temple  of 
peace,  love  and  hope,"  began  one  of  those  brutal, 
harsh  inquisitions  for  which  the  police  forces  of 
our  nation  are  well-known  and  which  they  seem  to 
think  is  their  prerogative.  Such  an  illegal  exam- 
ination, brutally  conducted,  covers  the  helpless 
and  innocent  with  the  awful  shadow  of  fear  fathered 
by  the  suspicion  of  cruel  abuse,  and  the  victims 
of  such  gross  assault,  in  their  loneliness,  beyond  all 
help,  are  forced  to  appear  guilty  of  something  when 
they  are  not. 

This  "  guardian  of  the  peace  "  of  Houston,  in  a 
most  overbearing  manner  asked  me: 

"Where  are  you  from?" 

"  From  New  York,"  I  replied. 


CHURCH  AND  CITY'S  SIN          291 

"  What  do  you  do  for  a  living?  " 

"  I  work,"  was  my  answer. 

"  What  kind  of  work  do  you  do?  " 

"  I  do  any  kind  of  work  I  can  get  to  do  to  make 
an  honest  living,"  I  answered. 

At  this  point  of  our  conversation  I  turned  my 
back  to  leave  him,  when  he  loudly  called  to  a  sub- 
ordinate and  said, 

"  Arrest  that  man." 

Instantly  a  rough  hand  was  upon  my  shoulder. 
I  demanded  of  the  man,  "  Why  do  you  arrest  me? 
I  have  done  no  wrong."  But  my  appeal  for  release 
was  absolutely  ignored. 

I  resolved  not  to  reveal  my  identity  to  anyone, 
and  was  taken  half  a  block  down  the  street, 
where  a  patrol  wagon  was  waiting,  in  which  were 
seated  seven  other  unfortunate,  homeless  men  like 
myself.  Remember,  the  patrol  wagon  was  wait- 
ing for  me  a  half  block  away  from  the  "  Star  of 
Hope  Mission  " !  Why?  Because  it  was  so  much 
more  respectable  than  to  have  it  waiting  for  the  vic- 
tims of  the  Mission  in  front  of  its  door. 

After  I  had  been  forced  into  the  wagon,  while 
it  passed  the  bright  street  lamps  I  studied  the 
faces  of  my  unlucky  companions  in  crime.  All 
these  young  fellows  were  between  the  ages  of  eigh- 
teen and  thirty-three  and  were  skilled  workers. 
As  I  looked  upon  them  I  immediately  recognized 
one  of  them  as  a  young  fellow  to  whom  I  had 
spoken  that  afternoon  while  looking  for  work. 


292  "BKOKE" 

He,  also,  was  in  the  same  condition  that  I  was  in, 
stranded  and  homeless.  He  told  me  the  police, 
that  very  day,  ordered  him  out  of  town  but  because 
of  his  ill  health  he  was  unable  to  walk.  He  also 
said  that  he  was  afraid  to  risk  going  into  the  rail- 
road yards  to  get  a  freight,  as  the  police  were  liable 
to  arrest  him,  so  as  the  night  was  very  cold,  fearing 
with  his  poor  health  that  it  might  be  fatal  if  he 
should  sleep  outdoors,  he  finally  decided  to  go  to 
the  "  Star  of  Hope  Mission,"  where,  as  a  sick  man, 
instead  of  being  given  relief  and  shelter,  he  was 
thrown  into  prison. 

Arriving  at  the  jail,  we  were  immediately 
searched.  While  the  night  captain  took  my  record, 
I  told  him  that  I  was  there,  not  because  of  having 
committed  any  crime,  or  as  a  political  critic,  but 
simply  to  study  the  conditions  of  the  unemployed 
in  the  city ;  to  study  the  chances  of  an  honest  work- 
ingman,  temporarily  out  of  work  and  without 
means  to  get  the  necessaries  of  life  in  Houston. 
Having  never  heard  of  me,  the  Captain  gave  me  an 
audible  smile  of  suspicion  and  ordered  me  thrown 
into  the  bull-pen,  a  dungeon  of  almost  utter  dark- 
ness. 

The  docket  of  the  Houston  City  Jail  for  the 
night  of  November  28,  1910,  has  the  names  of  eight 
victims  of  the  "  Star  of  Hope  Mission,"  includ- 
ing myself.  They  were  all  run  in  by  the  Mission 
because  they  were  unfortunate  enough  to  be  with- 
out a  night's  resting-place,  and  had  appealed  to 


CHURCH  AND  CITY'S  SIN          293 

this  so-called  Christian  institution,  maintained 
supposedly  for  the  express  purpose  of  sheltering 
homeless  boys  and  men. 

While  in  jail  I  interviewed  most  of  my  fellow 
victims,  and  learned  that  not  one  of  them  had  ever 
been  in  jail  before.  The  torture  of  their  humility 
was  clear  to  me,  for  while  speaking  to  them,  they 
continually  reverted  to  kind  parents  and  a  loving 
home.  We  were  all  sitting  or  lying  down  on  the 
stone  floor,  as  there  was  no  other  accommodation. 
While  all  of  them  were  gloomily  silent,  I  remarked : 

"  Well,  cheer  up  boys,  this  is  not  so  bad.  It 
might  be  worse." 

One  of  them  quickly  answered,  "  You're  right, 
Mister.  I  hope  they  won't  let  us  out  until  morn- 
ing for  I  have  no  place  to  go." 

Then  I  said,  "  Supposing  we  were  in  a  con- 
demned prisoner's  cell  and  were  to  be  put  to  death 
to-morrow,"  and  one  of  them  quickly  replied,  "  I 
wouldn't  care  if  we  were  for  I  have  nothing  to  live 
for  anyway." 

During  this  interval  of  imprisonment  a  local 
newspaper  man  who  learned  of  my  being  in  the 
bull-pen,  came  at  once  to  the  dungeon  and  called 
me.  I  sprang  to  the  steel  barred  door  of  this 
Houston  hell,  into  which  the  "  Star  of  Hope,"  aided 
by  the  Houston  police  force,  had  thrown  us,  and 
said,  "  Here.  What  will  you?  " 

The  rays  of  a  dim  light  revealed  my  face  to  the 
reporter,  who  asked  me,  "Are  you  Edwin  A. 


294  "BROKE" 

Brown?"  At  the  same  time  he  pulled  out  of  his 
pocket  a  New  Orleans  newspaper  which  had  pub- 
lished a  short  time  before  a  counterfeit  present- 
ment. While  glancing  at  the  likeness,  he  re- 
marked, "  You  are  the  man  all  right."  "  When  did 
you  get  into  town?  We  have  been  looking  for  you 
for  a  week."  I  replied,  "  I  got  into  town  this  morn- 
ing and  into  jail  this  evening."  (The  New  Orleans 
paper  stated  that  I  was  going  to  Houston.) 

"  Don't  worry.  We'll  have  you  out  of  here  in 
a  few  minutes." 

True  to  his  word  I  was  soon  a  free  man  and  on 
my  way  with  the  journalist  to  the  office  of  the 
Houston  Post.  After  the  interview,  I  left  for  my 
hotel,  where,  after  the  luxury  of  a  refreshing  bath, 
on  a  soft,  snowy  bed,  I  lay  down  to  rest  but  not 
to  sleep  for  while  my  body  rested,  my  thoughts 
were  back  in  that  wicked  cell  with  those  of  my 
countrymen  who  saw  no  future  and  to  whom  life 
held  no  meaning.  Not  until  the  dawn  of  another 
glorious  Texas  day,  a  symbol  of  the  light  glowing 
in  the  great  hearts  of  the  good  people  of  Houston 
and  of  Texas,  did  I  fall  asleep. 

The  next  morning  the  Houston  Post  carried  a 
startling  story  on  the  arrest  of  the  victims  of  the 
"  Star  of  Hope  Mission,"  supplemented  by  the  in- 
terview I  had  given,  portraying  Houston's  care  for 
its  homeless  unemployed.  The  startling  exposures 
made  by  the  Houston  press  on  existing  conditions 
were  followed  by  my  talk  before  the  Conference  of 


CHURCH  AND  CITY'S  SIN          295 

State  Charities  then  in  session,  and  brought  forth 
a  volume  of  articles  in  the  various  local  papers, 
teeming  with  apologies  for  the  inexcusable  conduct 
of  the  "  Star  of  Hope  Mission  "  and  the  police  sys- 
tem of  that  city. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

SAN  ANTONIO  —  WHOSE  VERY  NAME  is  Music 

"  //  mankind  showed  half  as  much  love  to  each  other  as  when 
one  dies  or  goes  away,  what  a  different  world  this  would  6e." — 
AUERBACH. 

1  CARRIED  away  in  memory  from  San  An- 
tonio   two    pictures, —  one    of    a    beautiful, 
quaint  old  city,  rich  in  historical   lore;  a 
city  of  winter  sunshine,  palms  and  flowers  which 
make  it  truly  "  a  stranger's  haven  " ;  a  picture  of 
welcome  and  a  spirit  of  kindness  even  to  the  home- 
less unemployed  of  which  I  caught  glimpses  dur- 
ing my  brief  sojourn  in  that  city,  though  covered 
by  thoughtlessness  for  their  care  of  them. 

The  other  picture  is  of  the  fifty  destitute,  home- 
less men  I  came  in  contact  with  during  the  few 
days  I  spent  in  San  Antonio.  I  found  all  but  two 
anxious  and  looking  for  work.  These  two,  like 
many  a  rich  man's  son  I  know,  impressed  me  that 
they  would  die  before  they  would  work.  They 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  self-respect  and  had  no  com- 
punction in  begging  a  meal  or  a  bed.  One  was  a 
drinker  and  the  other  had  a  mad  passion  for  read- 

296 


SAN   ANTONIO  297 

ing  anything  and  everything,  yet  even  from  these 
I  frequently  heard  the  expression,  "  I  wish  I  had 
a  job." 

There  are,  of  course,  the  regulars,  chained  by 
habits  of  vice,  on  whom  the  police  can  put  their 
hands  at  any  time.  I  know  them  at  a  moment's 
glance.  It  was  not  these  poor  unfortunates  I  came 
to  San  Antonio  to  study,  but  the  itinerant  workers 
who  are  lured  from  their  dull  towns  to  new  and  un- 
developed centers  of  activity,  believing  work  and 
high  wages  await  them. 

It  was  Saturday  morning.  While  strolling  down 
West  Commerce  Street,  I  met  a  young  man  in  over- 
alls, with  jumper  tucked  under  one  arm.  I 
greeted  him: 

"  Hello,  Jack !  Can  you  tell  a  fellow  where  he 
can  find  a  job?  " 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  laughing  twinkle  in  his 
eye  and  answered,  "  I  have  nothing  like  that  up  my 
sleeve.  I  wish  I  had,  and  if  I  could,  I  would  share 
it  with  you,  pal.  I  am  dead  broke,  too,  and,"  he 
continued,  "  this  is  my  birthday.  I  am  twenty-one 
to-day.  God,  but  I  feel  wretched  and  dirty!  I 
slept  in  a  freight  car  last  night  in  the  I.  &  G.  N. 
yards  but  it  was  a  broken  rest.  The  floor  was  hard 
and  I  was  as  cold  as  the  devil,  and  then,  too,  a  fel- 
low can't  sleep  much  when  he  is  fearful  that  at  any 
moment  a  railroad  or  a  city  bull  is  going  to  put 
his  hand  upon  him." 

I  then  asked  if  he  had  yet  breakfasted,  and  he 


298  "BROKE" 

answered,  "  No.  I  have  not  eaten  since  yesterday 
morning." 

Making  a  trivial  excuse,  confessing  I  possessed  a 
little  money,  we  went  to  breakfast.  As  we  sat 
down  I  picked  up  the  morning  paper,  and  he  said 
at  once,  "  Look  at  the  want  ads."  The  only  thing 
offered  that  morning  was  by  a  man  in  the  River- 
side Building  who  wanted  ten  grubbers. 

"  Let's  look  it  up,"  I  said. 

"  All  right,"  he  replied.  "  I  can  grub,  and  I'll 
do  anything." 

We  left  for  the  place.  The  man  was  paying  ten 
dollars  an  acre  to  men  to  grub  his  land,  but  the 
agent  believed  the  work  was  all  done.  From  the 
manner  of  the  official  in  charge  we  fancied  we  were 
not  of  the  right  color  or  kind  of  men  for  the  work. 

As  we  came  out  of  the  Riverside  Building  the 
young  man  said,  "  I  would  give  a  thousand  dollars 
if  I  had  it,  for  a  bath  and  a  shave." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  the  public  bath?  "  I  asked. 

I  wish  all  San  Antonio  could  have  seen  the  look 
of  anticipated  pleasure  on  that  boy's  face  when  he 
asked  eagerly,  "  Where  is  it?  "  and  the  look  of  dis- 
appoiatment  which  replaced  it  when  I  said,  "  They 
haven't  any  here.  But,"  I  said,  "you  can  get  a 
free  shave  at  the  barber's  college."  He  went  there 
at  once  and  got  his  shave. 

When  he  came  out  of  the  barber's  college,  I  said, 
"  Let's  go  to  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  They,  perhaps,  will 
give  us  a  free  bath." 


SAN  ANTONIO  299 

"  Where  is  that?  "  he  asked.  "  It  is  a  rich  man's 
club,  isn't  it?  I  don't  believe  they  want  hoboes 
like  us  there." 

I  answered,  "  No ;  it  is  a  *  Christian  institution/ 
and  they  are  supposed  to  stand  for  just  this  very 
thing  —  to  help  young  men  who  want  to  help  them- 
selves." 

We  went  to  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  and  when  we  reached 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  I  said  to  my  companion,  "  You 
go  up  and  ask  them." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  can't  do  it.  Why,  it  cut  me 
even  to  ask  for  a  free  shave  where  I  knew  they 
wanted  me." 

I  then  said,  "  Let  us  go  up  together." 

Shyly  he  followed.  I  approached  the  attendant 
at  the  desk  and  asked  for  a  free  bath.  At  first  he 
told  me  decidedly  that  their  baths  were  for  mem- 
bers only.  Then  he  asked  me  if  I  was  a  member 
of  any  organization.  I  replied  I  was  not,  and  as  I 
turned  to  leave  he  said,  "  I  will  make  an  exception 
this  time,  but  it  is  not  our  custom.  Do  you  want 
one  or  two?  " 

I  said,  "  But  one.  This  young  man  with  me 
wants  it." 

The  attendant  gave  him  a  towel  and  the  young 
man  went  to  his  bath.  But  we  were  given  to  un- 
derstand, in  a  decisive  manner,  that  we  were  not 
welcome  and  not  wanted.  The  bath  thus  given  my 
companion  was  the  first  gratuity  ever  granted  me, 
in  all  my  wanderings,  by  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 


300  "BROKE" 

The  first  remark  the  young  man  made  after  com- 
ing from  the  bath  was,  "  I  feel  so  good,  I  think  I 
could  go  without  eating  for  a  week." 

Turning  to  me  abruptly  he  said,  "  I  tell  you,  Jack, 
I  can't  beg  or  steal,  and  I'm  not  going  hungry  or 
bedless  another  day." 

I  suggested  the  Associated  Charities.  "  They 
might  possibly  help  us." 

"That  would  be  begging,  wouldn't  it?  Besides, 
that  place  is  for  sick  men,  isn't  it?  I  am  not  sick. 
No !  I  am  going  into  the  navy.  Let  us  go  over  to 
the  Post  Office,  to  the  United  States  Marine  Office, 
and  see  what  they  have  to  offer." 

Although  he  was  a  young  man,  a  graduate  of  the 
grammar  school,  a  perfect  type  of  physical  man- 
hood, straight  as  a  poplar,  five  feet  eleven  inches 
in  height  and  weighing  a  hundred  and  eighty 
pounds,  he  could  not  get  in,  and  was  referred  to 
Fort  Sam  Houston  for  enlistment.  As  we  left  he 
said,  "  I  am  going  to  ask  the  first  soldier  I  see 
about  going  in.  He  probably  will  give  me  twenty- 
five  cents  for  a  meal  and  tell  me  to  keep  out  of  the 
goldarn  place."  He  continued,  though,  in  a  de- 
cided manner,  "  I  am  going  into  the  army, —  not 
because  I  want  to,  but  because  there  seems  to  be  no 
other  immediate  opportunity  offered." 

And  so  we  parted,  he  to  enter  the  army,  I  to  be 
left  alone  with  my  thoughts. 

Two-thirds  of  our  army  to-day  is  made  up  of 
boys  who  are  forced  into  it.  It  is  the  volunteer 


SAN   ANTONIO  301 

who  makes  a  good  soldier,  but  these  boys  are  not 
volunteers  —  with  them  it  is  compulsory.  Mon- 
day morning  I  went  to  the  army  post  to  see  if  the 
boy  had  done  what  he  said  he  was  going  to  do.  I 
found  him  there  a  soldier,  giving  three  of  the  best 
years  of  his  life  for  sixteen  dollars  a  month,  in- 
stead of  receiving  the  privilege  of  labor  by  being 
temporarily  cared  for  in  a  Municipal  Emergency 
Home  until  he  could  help  himself. 

And,  now,  I  will  portray  briefly  the  story  of 
"  The  young  man  with  the  hoe,"  who  made  his  way 
into  southern  Texas.  He  was  penniless,  and  was 
arrested  on  the  Frisco  line  because  he  was  dis- 
covered riding  a  freight  train.  He  told  me  how  he 
was  given  thirty  days  in  a  Texas  convict  camp, 
and  how  they  nearly  killed  him  there  for  being 
charged  with  trespassing  on  the  property  of  the 
railroad  company.  I  somehow  felt  that  the  con- 
vict camp  had  almost  killed  the  best  within  him, 
for  he  remarked  as  we  were  strolling  down  the 
street  toward  our  destination,  "  I  have  a  nice  gun 
on  me.  I  think  I  will  pawn  it,  because  if  a  fellow 
has  a  gun  on  him  and  has  nothing  to  eat  nor  any 
place  to  sleep  he  is  liable  to  do  something  he  will 
be  sorry  for."  He  took  his  gun  into  a  pawnshop 
and  left  it  there  for  thirty-five  cents. 

These  are  but  two  incidents  showing  how  badly 
this  city  needs  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home. 
There  are  two-score  others  that  sadden  me  as  I 
think  of  them.  What  a  beautiful  thing  it  would 


302  "BROKE" 

be  for  San  Antonio  to  be  one  of  the  first  cities  in 
the  South  to  build  a  home! 

Leaving  San  Antonio  on  my  way  to  Dallas,  I 
stopped  for  a  short  time  in  Austin  where  the  Texas 
Legislature  was  in  session. 

During  my  investigations  I  have  never  seen  a 
public  notice,  in  the  press  or  elsewhere,  guiding  a 
destitute  person  to  the  Associated  Charities  or  pub- 
licly offering  aid,  until  I  came  to  Austin.  Here  I 
saw  just  one  such  notice.  It  was  not  at  the  depot 
nor  at  any  employment  office  nor  at  the  emergency 
hospital,  nor  at  the  prison  door.  It  was  plastered 
up  in  the  office  of  a  first-class  hotel  which  at  that 
time  was  headquarters  for  the  assembled  law- 
makers of  the  State  of  Texas.  Well,  perhaps,  that 
body  of  estimable  gentlemen  did  need  a  little 
charity. 

The  spirit  of  power,  energy  and  enterprise  has 
been  breathed  into  the  city  of  Dallas,  with  all  its 
youth,  strength  and  progress.  There  is  not  an  old- 
fashioned  thing  about  her.  She  fairly  flows  with 
the  present.  The  things  most  in  evidence  in  this 
city  are  new  thoughts,  new  ways,  new  things. 
Realizing  the  spirit  of  the  era,  her  badge  of  honor, 
her  insignia  should  be  "  Just  Now,"  covering  two 
meanings.  Just  (in  the  spirit  of  justice)  "  dis- 
posed to  render  to  each  man  his  due  " ;  Now,  "  in 
the  least  possible  time." 

When  I  told  the  people  of  Dallas  that  their 
beautiful  public  library  of  fifteen  thousand  volumes 


SAN  ANTONIO  303 

could  afford  to  have  on  file  for  public  use  only  one 
daily  paper  and  that  I  had  seen  a  dozen  men  and 
boys  waiting  their  turn  to  read  the  "  want  ads  " ; 
that  the  Salvation  Army  had  turned  many  back 
into  the  street  because  they  had  no  money;  that  a 
private  employment  office  was  robbing  men  and 
boys;  that  I  had  found  a  sixteen-year-old,  starving 
boy  in  the  city  forced  to  beg  or  steal,  who  declared 
that  the  Associated  Charities  of  New  York  had 
shipped  seventeen  of  them  from,  the  Orphan  Asy- 
lums through  to  Dallas  and  turned  them  adrift  in 
the  western  country  and  that  the  Salvation  Army 
absolutely  refused  to  give  them  aid ;  of  a  mother 
with  five  little  children,  one  a  babe  in  arms,  who 
spent  thirty-six  hours  in  a  vacant,  old  storeroom 
which  was  absolutely  barren,  while  the  husband 
looked  for  work;  of  the  suffering  of  the  many 
toilers  in  Dallas  walking  the  streets  all  night,  seek- 
ing shelter  under  death-dealing  conditions,  and 
that  none  of  these  seemed  to  know  that  there  was 
in  existence  such  a  thing  as  organized  charity  in 
Dallas,  and  that  many  of  them,  even  had  they 
known  it,  would  have  taken  the  chances  of  starva- 
tion rather  than  to  have  asked  alms,  no  matter 
how  kindly  disposed  Dallas  charity  organizations 
might  be  toward  them, —  they  listened  with  deep 
interest. 

Houston,  San  Antonio  and  Dallas  received  my 
counsel,  not  in  the  spirit  of  criticism,  but  as  a 
message  holding  a  great  truth,  a  message  contain- 


304  "BROKE" 

ing  facts  which  must  be  regarded  in  acts  that  will 
reward  themselves  twofold  in  the  still  newer 
Houston,  San  Antonio  and  Dallas, —  cities  which 
every  day  are  stirring  into  new  industrial  activity 
the  northern  hills  of  the  "  Lone  Star  "  State. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

MILWAUKEE  —  WILL  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  SOCIALISM 
END  POVERTY? 

"  Politics  rests  on  necessary  foundations,  and  cannot  6e  treated 
with  levity" — EMEBSON. 

FOLLOWING  Christmas  day,  December  26, 
1911,  just  at  the  beginning  of  the  most  bit- 
terly cold  winter  weather  our  country  had 
known  for  a  great  many  years,  I  went  to  Mil- 
waukee. The  city  was  in  the  last  few  months  of  a 
Socialist  Administration.  I  wanted  to  see  what  it 
meant  to  the  working  classes  and  especially  to  that 
class  I  was  deeply  interested  in, —  the  homeless 
workingman,  and  at  times  the  destitute,  homeless 
workingman.  There  were  three  of  our  important 
cities,  which,  because  of  their  national  prominence 
in  social  progress,  I  felt  would  add  a  climax  to  my 
investigations :  "  Socialist "  Milwaukee ;  "  The 
Golden  Rule"  City  of  Toledo;  and  "Spotless" 
Detroit. 

It  was  twenty  degrees  below  zero  when  I  ar- 
rived at  Milwaukee  and  this  extremely  cold  weather 
heralded  the  speedy  gathering  of  the  ice  crop.  In 
this  city  there  were  four  thousand  unemployed 

305 


306  "BROKE" 

homeless  men,  fully  one-fourth  of  them  destitute, 
begging,  thieving,  sleeping  on  the  floors  of  the 
cheaper  saloons,  seeking  all  of  those  available 
places  that  would  possibly  keep  aflame  the  spark 
of  life,  in  addition  to  those  finding  shelter  in  the 
Milwaukee  Eescue  Mission. 

In  three  days  the  ice  crop  was  made  and  in  four 
days'  time  thirty-five  hundred  of  these  men  were 
on  the  ice.  The  five  hundred  who  did  not  go  were 
too  old,  physically  weak,  or  had  not  sufficient 
clothing.  Many  of  those  who  did  go,  in  the  con- 
dition they  wrere  in,  froze  their  faces,  ears,  hands 
and  feet  and  from  exposure  were  forced  into  the 
hospitals  and  some  into  their  graves.  The  wages 
paid  by  the  ice  company  was  a  dollar  and  seventy- 
five  cents  per  day,  from  which  the  worker  paid  five 
dollars  per  week  for  board.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
refer  again  to  the  days  of  work.  For  many  rea- 
sons, the  laborer  is  forced  to  lose  time  during  the 
week, —  yet  the  board  must  be  paid. 

The  weather  continued  extremely  cold  for  many 
weeks.  I  found  the  Milwaukee  Rescue  Mission  in- 
complete and  inadequate.  In  this  bitter  cold  I  was 
denied  admission  to  the  institution  by  reason  of  its 
being  overcrowded,  and,  also,  because  its  doors 
were  locked  at  ten-thirty  P.  M. 

Late  one  afternoon  I  entered  its  waiting-room,  a 
long  narrow  room,  near  the  entrance.  It  was  filled 
to  suffocation  with  homeless  men.  I,  with  many 
others,  was  denied  the  privilege  of  working  for 


MILWAUKEE  307 

shelter  and  food.  Too  many  had  already  applied. 
I  was  not  to  be  denied  a  bountiful  five-  or  ten-cent 
meal  providing  I  had  the  price.  I  heard  an  old 
man  of  sixty-five  abused  and  denied  a  second  cup 
of  coffee.  Divine  worship,  however,  was  free  and 
while  I  waited  in  the  packed  room  for  that  hour  I 
read  these  inscriptions  on  the  wrall : 

"  Any  man  caught  in  the  Act,  will  have  cause  to 
wish  he  hadn't  done  it." 

"  Even  a  moderate  drinker  will  be  denied 
lodging." 

"  Whenever  you  smoke  a  cigarette,  you  may  say, 
'  Nearer  my  God  to  Thee.'  " 

"  Keep  your  I's  on  the  spotter  for  he  is  watching 
you." 

Smoking  was  absolutely  forbidden,  yet  no  smok- 
ing-room provided. 

Spitting  on  the  floor  was  breaking  a  castiron 
rule,  yet  not  a  cuspidor  was  provided  for  that  use. 

The  hour  for  worship  came  and  on  the  instant 
the  lights  were  suddenly  turned  out.  As  we 
stumbled  over  the  benches  and  chairs,  as  well  as 
over  one  another  trying  to  get  out,  a  man  told  us 
emphatically  "  to  go  in  to  worship  [in  a  very  large 
audience  room,  which  had  stood  empty  while  we 
were  packed  in  the  small  one]  or  get  out."  The 
religion  or  the  mode  of  worship  of  many  of  these 
men  was  not  after  their  way,  but  that  made  no 
difference.  As  the  thermometer  registered  twenty- 
two  degrees  below  zero  that  night,  it  was  not  a  very 


308  "BROKE" 

comfortable  experience  for  the  half-clothed  men 
who  were  forced  to  walk  the  streets  in  search  of 
other  shelter. 

I  followed  them  out  to  see  where  they  went,  and 
just  as  I  was  leaving  I  recalled  the  last  motto  I 
had  read  before  the  darkness  was  forced  upon  us: 

"  No  law  but  love,  no  creed  but  Christ." 

Most  of  the  men  who  sought  other  shelter  went 
to  the  saloons  and  by  the  big  red-hot  stoves  kept 
from  perishing.  Others  went  to  the  tramway  sta- 
tion or  the  depots,  or  the  offices  of  the  cheap  lodg- 
ing houses. 

In  one  of  the  Milwaukee  daily  papers  January 
2,  1912,  I  read :  "  The  first  man  to  be  sent  to  the 
house  of  correction  this  year  was  John  L ,  sen- 
tenced in  the  District  Court  yesterday  'to  a  term 
of  ninety  days.  He  was  begging  on  Grand  Avenue, 
Sunday  night." 

The  spirit  shown  in  the  Milwaukee  Rescue  Mis- 
sion, as  revealed  to  me,  was  not  Christian.  The 
heart  of  the  superintendent  of  this  institution  may 
be  in  the  right  place  —  I  did  not  meet  the  gentle- 
man—  but  the  hearts  of  his  subordinates  (at  least 
those  I  came  in  contact  with),  and  the  spirit  of 
the  institution  were  not.  I  heard  men  in  the  Po- 
lice Court  of  Milwaukee  beg  of  the  Judge  to  be  sent 
to  the  House  of  Correction  as  a  relief  from  suffer- 
ing during  the  bitter  cold  winter. 

This,  my  exposition  of  the  condition  of  the  un- 
employed homeless  of  Milwaukee,  should  not  be  re- 


MILWAUKEE  309 

garded  as  a  criticism  on  Socialism,  although  the 
latter  failed  in  its  care  and  treatment  of  their  un- 
employed. There  are  many  excuses  to  offer.  An 
old,  rotten  political  and  social  system,  four  thou- 
sand years  old,  could  not  be  reconstructed  in  a  mo- 
ment's time.  Bound  by  City  and  State  Charters 
and  a  netted  tangle  of  City  and  State  laws,  it  was 
impossible  for  the  administration  to  carry  out  the 
fundamental  principles  of  Socialism.  That  brief 
Socialist  administration  was  more  one  of  theory 
than  of  practical  interest,  although  the  Fire  and  Po- 
lice Departments  were  not  out  of  control  of  the 
administration  except  in  matters  of  salary.  The 
good  intent  of  the  policies  of  the  administration  are 
reflected  in  many  permissive  bills  which  went  to 
the  Legislature,  in  most  cases  to  remain.  Among 
them  are  bills  providing  for: 

Men  dealing  in  ice; 

Unequivocal  right  to  construct  Municipal  Lodg- 
ing Houses  and  Tenements; 

Public  Comfort  Stations; 

An  act  through  to  build  parks. 

A  municipal  lighting  plant  was  planned  at  this 
time  and  municipal  markets.  The  unified  press 
was  against  this  administration,  which  taking  all 
in  all,  it  would  not  be  fair  to  regard  as  a  compre- 
hensive example  of  Socialism,  though  I  may  well 
add  that  during  it  taxes  were  not  raised.  At  that 
time  Milwaukee  had  the  lowest  tax  rate  of  any 
large  American  city. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

TOLEDO  —  THE  "GOLDEN  RULE"  CITY 

"  One  of  the  common  people  fas  Lincoln  once  humorously  said) 
God  must  have  loved  because  he  made  so  many." — BBAND  \YHIT- 

LOCK. 

AMONG  the  things  that  I  found  in  the 
"Golden  Rule  City"  of  Toledo  were 
these : 

Four  National  banks,  fourteen  State  banks,  sav- 
ings banks  and  trust  companies,  whose  combined 
resources  were  over  sixty  millions. 

A  splendid  McKinley  Monument  built  by  popu- 
lar subscription  which  was  completed  in  one  day. 

A  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollar 
Y.  M.  C.  A. 

A  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  dollar 
Y.  W.  C.  A. 

A  one  hundred  thousand  dollar  Newsboys'  Build- 
ing. (How  essential  is  the  conservation  of  the 
Newsboy!  When  he  is  no  longer  small  enough  to 
be  a  newsboy  and  must  do  the  work  of  an  able- 
bodied  man,  what  then?) 

A   four  hundred   thousand   dollar   Marble   Art 

310 


THE   "GOLDEN   RULE"  CITY       311 

Museum.  (The  cost  given  does  not  include  the 
value  of  the  collection.) 

Finest  Municipal  golf  course  in  the  world. 

A  Municipal  Zoological  Garden  which  is  a  won- 
der, the  animals  being  housed,  fed  and  shel- 
tered at  great  cost. 

Toledo  has  also  an  old  ramshackle  of  a  building, 
which  ought  to  be  condemned,  called  again  by  that 
pretty  name  which  has  become  so  popular  with 
federated  charities,  "  The  Wayfarer's  Lodge."  I 
made  one  attempt  to  stop  there  but  it  was  closed. 
Its  closing  hour  was  eight-thirty  P.  M.  But  I  caught 
its  spirit,  which  was  a  little  worse  than  the  Mil- 
waukee Rescue  Mission  to  the  homeless  man,  when 
I  was  politely,  or  rather  impolitely,  given  to  under- 
stand that  in  that  most  bitter  cold  weather  even, 
I  was  not  welcome  to  warm  myself  by  the  old  stove. 
I  was  told  by  a  starving  boy  that  the  food  given 
for  one  and  a  half  or  two  hours'  work  was  the  usual 
three  different  concoctions  of  water,  and  to  look  at 
the  old  inadequate  den  from  the  exterior  was 
enough.  This  wretched  place  accommodates  only 
fifty  men,  when  every  night  during  that  bitter  win- 
ter there  were  from  three  to  five  hundred  on  the 
streets  of  Toledo  who  had  no  place  to  lay  their 
heads. 

Just  across  the  Maumee  river,  in  East  Toledo, 
is  an  old  frame  police  station  where  I  found  a 
hundred  and  twenty-five  men  trying  to  sleep  nightly 
on  the  floor.  A  little  way  from  there,  fifty  were 


312  "BKOKE" 

sleeping  on  the  floor  of  a  Mission,  with  newspapers 
for  beds.  Each  lodger  was  taxed  five  cents  for 
that  privilege. 

In  this  "  Golden  Eule  City,"  I  found  many  men 
who  had  served  time  in  the  jails  for  the  crime  of 
poverty.  I  was  told  by  a  citizen  at  the  time  of  my 
visit  that  three  hundred  men  from  one  of  their 
prisons  were  compelled  to  put  up  ice  for  the  city 
of  Toledo,  receiving  no  recompense  for  their  work 
but  a  cell  and  prison  fare, —  slavery  more  damnable 
than  ever  cursed  the  South.  These  were  then 
pushed  out  on  to  the  world  again  to  become  mendi- 
cants and  criminals.  Facts  calling  for  prison  re- 
form as  told  in  romances  carry  a  great  weight  for 
good,  but  enforced  reform  is  what  is  demanded  of 
us  to-day.  Let  us  not  be  slow  to  act. 

I  have  told  of  the  many  things  I  found  in  "  The 
Golden  Kule  City  of  Opportunities."  Let  me  tell 
of  a  few  things  I  did  not  find, —  things  which 
might  give  an  opportunity  to  those  who  come  and 
are  willing  and  must  work : 

Municipal  Emergency  Home. 

Emergency  Hospital. 

Convalescent  Hospital. 

Public  Bath. 

Municipal  Laundry. 

Municipal  work  for  the  unemployed  at  standard 
wages. 

Public  Lavatories. 

Public  Comfort  Stations. 


THE  "GOLDEN  RULE"  CITY       313 

It  may  not  be  the  fault  of  the  progressive  people 
of  Toledo  that  they  have  not  these  beatitudes. 
Like  Milwaukee,  they  too  may  be  bound  by  a 
knotty  web  of  State  and  City  laws,  which  must  be 
overcome  before  the  people  can  really  testify  in 
action  to  what  they  really  profess. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

SPOTLESS  DETROIT 

"  How   many   things   shudder   beneath   the   mighty   breath   of 
night." — HUGO. 

IN"  the  midst  of  the  desperate  winter  of  1911  and 
'12  I  passed  a  week  among  the  homeless  of 
Detroit.  During  my  brief  stay,  there  ap- 
peared in  one  of  the  daily  papers  the  following 
notice,  and  a  number  of  similar  ones: 

"  Charles  Heague,  thirty-six,  no  home,  was  picked 
up  in  the  street  after  midnight  by  Patrolmen  Wag- 
ner and  Coats.  Both  hands  were  frozen." 

As  in  other  cities,  during  the  five  long  months  of 
winter  there  is  in  Detroit  a  vast  army  of  out-of- 
work,  homeless,  starving  men. 

Detroit  has  many  benevolent  and  charitable  in- 
stitutions, which,  no  doubt,  are  doing  a  great 
deal  of  good.  But  the  ones  I  came  in  contact  with 
were  imperfect  and  do  not  serve  their  purpose. 
The  McGregor  Mission,  which  shelters  thousands 
of  homeless  men  annually,  is  one  of  the  best,  if  not 
the  best,  in  our  nation.  The  spirit  of  kindness  in 
evidence  was  remarkable  with  but  few  exceptions, 

314 


SPOTLESS  DETROIT  315 

of  which  the  most  important  was  that  its  doors 
were  closed  at  ten  p.  M.  Also  I  saw  twenty  men 
and  boys,  early  one  Sunday  morning,  driven  out 
of  this  Mission  when  the  mercury  was  far  below 
zero,  and  not  allowed  to  return  for  two  hours.  Be- 
ing Sunday,  the  saloons  and  other  places  of  busi- 
ness, as  well  as  the  other  Missions,  were  closed. 
These  half-clad  men  were  forced  to  remain  on  the 
streets.  Their  suffering  was  pitiful. 

The  McGregor  Mission  was  decidedly  inadequate 
for  the  vast  army  of  homeless  workers  in  Detroit 
at  that  time.  Here,  also,  men  were  seeking  every 
available  place  to  sleep  and  many,  for  doing  so, 
were  thrust  into  jail.  The  most  noticeable  feature 
of  the  incompleteness  of  this  institution  was  the 
lack  of  a  department  for  women. 

One  of  the  most  startling  examples  of  malad- 
justment in  Detroit  was  the  Michigan  Free  Em- 
ployment Bureau,  located  in  an  old  decaying  build- 
ing, with  window  lights  broken  out  of  both  door 
and  window-sash.  The  floor  being  much  below  the 
level  of  the  ground,  each  comer  carried  in  the  snow 
and  filth,  which  soon  melted  into  an  icy  slush. 
Think  of  it!  Two  hundred  homeless  men,  willing 
to  work  for  a  mere  pittance,  for  an  existence, 
crowded  into  a  congested  room  —  which  did  not 
hold  nearly  all  of  the  applicants  —  many  of  them 
with  broken  shoes  and  sockless  feet  standing  in  ice 
water  for  hours  while  they  waited  and  hoped! 

As  a  contrast  to  this  object  lesson,  let  me  relate 


31G  "BROKE" 

another.  The  following  Sunday  afternoon  I 
mingled  with  an  audience  of  two  thousand  people 
listening  to  a  religious  agitator  wrho  declared  he 
must  raise  four  thousand  dollars  at  once  for  a  Mis- 
sion,—  a  Mission  wrhich  after  a  service  of  song  and 
prayer  let  starving,  homeless  men  freeze  to  death 
on  the  street! 

In  thirty  minutes  he  raised  thirty-five  hundred 
dollars.  On  another  afternoon  a  man,  with  pa- 
thetic words  and  appealing  pictures,  was  so- 
liciting money  for  the  lepers  in  India.  To  my 
question,  "  Are  not  these  unfortunates  subjects  of 
the  British  Crown,  and  being  so  are  there  no  ap- 
propriations made  for  their  care  by  the  English 
government?  "  the  speaker  answered,  "  Yes;  but  so 
little,  it  is  very  inefficient."  It  was  then  brought 
to  his  mind  that  Great  Britain  had  recently  spent 
several  million  pounds  to  crown  a  king  and  that 
this  being  the  case,  was  it  not  rather  inconsistent 
of  them  to  ask  people  of  other  nations  to  help  care 
for  their  sick?  To  which  the  gentleman  could 
only  reply  by  suggesting  a  harmony  of  opinion ! 

One  of  Detroit's  daily  papers  misquoted  me  by 
saying :  "  I  found  scores  of  mental  defectives  among 
the  homeless  workers  roaming  the  streets  of  De- 
troit." Only  two  actually  came  under  my  notice 
who  could  properly  be  classed  as  mentally  unbal- 
anced. But  after  all  I  had  seen,  I  fell  to  wonder- 
ing if  there  were  not  a  slight  degree  of  mental 
deficiency  in  the  minds  of  those  who  contribute  to 


SPOTLESS  DETROIT  317 

visionary  institutions  —  which  may  perhaps  have 
their  good  qualities  —  and  to  foreign  lands,  while 
at  our  very  door,  day  after  day,  we  hear  the  cry  of 
the  suffering,  toiling  American  citizens  who  need 
our  gifts. 

With  my  visit  to  "  Spotless  "  Detroit,  my  wan- 
derings ceased.  To-day  I  sit  in  my  own  home. 
In  the  closet  of  my  study  hangs  a  suit  of  worn- 
out  jeans.  A  pair  of  coarse,  badly-worn  shoes  lie 
on  the  floor.  On  a  hook  hangs  a  tattered  hat 
which  I  may  never  wear  again.  These  things  hold 
for  me  a  thousand  sermons  and  a  philosophy  which 
if  it  could  but  be  revealed  would  be  as  deep  and 
beautiful  as  any  that  has  ever  been  spoken.  My 
arduous  trials  are  over,  but  my  work  is  not  done. 
As  long  as  an  opportunity  presents  itself,  as  long 
as  the  breath  of  life  is  within  me,  I  shall  lift  my 
voice  in  behalf  of  the  oppressed,  and  our  cry  against 
laws  and  customs  that  decree  damnation,  against 
hells  and  influences  which  block  progress  toward 
a  divine  destiny,  until  our  beloved  Stars  and 
Stripes,  the  emblem  of  liberty,  peace  and  justice, 
which  by  greed,  lust  of  gold  and  false  ambitions 
have  been  so  cruelly  and  pitilessly  destroyed,  shall 
speak  again  of  union, —  of  union  in  our  States,  in 
the  brotherhood  of  man,  in  the  golden  rule  of 
Christ,  in  the  love  of  God. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

CONCLUSION 

"  The  greatest  city  is  that  which  has  the  greatest  men  and 
women.  If  it  6e  a  few  ragged  huts,  it  is  still  the  greatest  city  in 
the  world." — WALT  WHITMAN. 

AS  I  put  aside  my  pen  in  this  my  appeal  for 
the  Wandering  Citizen,  I  see  on  my  study 
table  many  letters,  filled  with  questions. 
The  following  are  the  most  frequently  asked: 

"  Is  not  drink  the  principal  cause  of  destitu- 
tion?" 

"  Is  the  American  police  system  brutal  toward 
the  homeless  out-of-work  man?  " 

"  What  of  the  impostor  at  the  Municipal 
Emergency  Home?  " 

Drink  is  not  the  primal  cause  of  poverty.  The 
first  and  all-important  cause  is  industrial  condi- 
tions. But  the  traffic  in  alcohol  is  the  most  power- 
ful ally  of  our  plutocratic  industrial  system  —  in 
perpetuating  poverty. 

Despondent  men  drink  for  relief  from  self-con- 
sciousness, starving  men  for  stimulation,  while  cir- 

318 


CONCLUSION  319 

cumstances,  fate,  or  the  vicissitudes  of  life  prompt 
many  to  resort  to  drink. 

The  man  who  works  ten  hours  a  day  on  a  meager 
midday  lunch  of  bread  and  cheese,  must  drink  to 
beat  out  the  day,  and  when  the  day  is  done,  do  you 
wonder  that  he  seeks  a  stimulant?  The  com- 
fortable, well-to-do,  honest  middle  class  drink  but 
little,  and  if  at  all,  very  moderately.  The  world's 
main  consumers  of  alcohol  are  —  the  very  poor  for 
forgetfulness,  the  idle  rich  for  pleasure.  Broken 
hearts  are  found  both  in  the  palace  and  hovel. 

The  saloon,  that  dissolvent  of  self-respect,  char- 
acter and  chastity,  mocking  the  intelligence  of  every 
community,  leaving  its  trace  and  putting  a  brand 
of  shame  upon  this  our  boasted  enlightened  era, 
we  may  not  believe  in  as  an  institution.  And  yet, 
this  same  saloon  is  a  refuge  meaning  as  much  to 
the  wandering,  homeless  wage-earner,  as  did,  in  the 
old  days,  the  shelter  of  the  good  monks  to  the 
storm-lost  wanderer  of  the  Alps,  and  until  each 
city  is  honorable  enough  to  give  to  the  homeless 
poor  man  something  in  place  of  the  saloon,  it  cer- 
tainly ought  not  to  be  mean  enough  to  take  from 
him  that  agent  of  life-saving  sustenance.  One  of 
the  most  brilliant  newspaper  writers  that  I  met  in 
my  crusade  told  me  that  while  down-and-out  in 
Portland,  Oregon,  he  lived  for  one  week  on  what  he 
snatched  from  the  free  lunch  counter.  In  many 
places  they  have  forced  from  the  saloon  the  free 
lunch,  the  rest  chairs,  the  tables  and  papers.  They 


320  "BKOKE" 

demand  that  they  close  at  midnight  or  earlier,  and 
all  day  Sunday.  Take  notice,  where  they  are  do- 
ing this,  they  are  not  opening  their  churches  very 
fast  as  a  substitute,  and  even  if  they  did,  there  is 
very  little  to  sustain  life  in  a  plaster-of-paris  image 
or  a  stained-glass  window. 

The  saloon,  with  its  shelter,  its  warmth,  and  its 
free  lunch,  saving  the  life  of  the  half-clad  perishing 
man,  holds  a  very  strong  argument  for  its  existence. 
If  the  mayor  of  a  city  has  not  the  power  to  create 
and  provide  clean,  wholesome,  public  benefits  for 
the  wage-earner  in  time  of  need  (who  has  a  civic 
right),  we  should  certainly  demand  that  the  saloon 
keeper  be  forced  to  serve  free  lunch,  and  keep  his 
door  open  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  in  the 
year,  and  twenty-four  hours  every  day,  for  it  is  a 
degree  more  respectable  to  sleep  in  a  saloon  than  in 
a  jail.  The  first  saloon  keeper  to  throw  a  man  out, 
should  be  the  first  to  be  thrown  out  of  business. 
Keep  the  saloons  until  every  city  is  honorable  and 
humane  enough  in  its  strife  for  civic  beauty  to  cre- 
ate public  privileges,  adequate  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Homes,  public  drinking  fountains  and  com- 
fort stations.  Then,  with  a  clear  conscience,  we 
may  legislate  the  enormous  profit  off  of  the  impure 
concoctions,  and  when  this  is  done,  the  dragon  will 
have  been  given  at  least  one  effectual  blow. 

"  Is  the  American  police  system  brutal  toward 
the  out-of-work  man?" 

The  declaration  of  the  radical  Agnostic  street 


CONCLUSION  321 

speaker,  that  there  was  only  one  miracle  he  be- 
lieved in,  and  that  was  "  that  St.  Patrick  drove  all 
the  snakes  and  toads  out  of  Ireland,  and  that  they 
came  to  America,  got  into  politics  and  on  to  the 
police  force,"  is  an  unjust  dogma,  for  in  my  observa- 
tion every  nationality  represented  on  the  police 
force  is  of  the  same  character  in  administering  the 
official  duty  and  in  taking  advantage  of  the  trust 
put  in  them  where  they  are  made  a  political  adjunct 
to  a  municipality. 

The  policeman  is  the  same  as  other  men.  He  is 
a  workingman,  and  like  all  men,  he  loves,  he  hates, 
he  has  his  home,  his  social  and  business  interests. 
He  is  of  the  community  and  should  stand  for  the 
welfare  of  that  community,  and  should  never  be 
allowed  to  divorce  himself  from  the  trust  placed 
upon  him  by  the  common  rights  of  all  the  people. 

What  greater  examples  of  the  virtues  of  character 
can  we  find  anywhere  than  in  the  police?  Their 
courage  is  noticeable.  They  will  not  hesitate  to 
rush  into  danger,  into  fire,  riot,  water,  to  save 
lives  and  property.  And  over  this  character  of 
courage  is  ever  present  the  element  of  kindness  to- 
ward the  little  child,  the  old  and  infirm,  and  often 
of  the  proffered  dime  to  the  homeless  man.  And 
yet  he  is  an  Ishmaelite  — "  his  hand  is  against  every 
man,  and  every  man's  hand  is  against  him,"  which 
is  a  destructive  condition. 

The  Police  System  taken  as  a  whole  throughout 
our  country  is  extremely  brutal  toward  the  out-of- 


322  "BKOKE" 

work,  homeless  man.  There  are  but  few  excep- 
tions. This  is  largely  because  when  a  man  is 
chosen  for  that  position,  for  political  reasons,  he 
pledges  himself,  not  so  much  to  keep  the  peace  and 
the  law  of  the  community,  as  to  enforce  the  law 
of  the  political  machine  and  vice  trust  of  that 
city.  And  if  the  helpless,  homeless  man,  defense- 
less because  of  poverty,  is  not  shot  or  clubbed  to 
death  (which  makes  a  perquisite  for  the  coroner), 
he  is  often  railroaded,  by  the  testimony  of  one  po- 
liceman, into  the  county  jail  where  it  costs  five 
cents  a  day  to  keep  him,  while  the  sheriff  and  chief 
of  police  will  receive  of  the  tax-payers'  money 
thirty  cents  a  day  for  his  care.  The  capacity  of 
these  jails  is  from  one  to  two  hundred  souls.  So 
it  can  be  plainly  seen  that  it  is  much  to  the  inter- 
ests of  these  officeholders  to  keep  them  filled.  The 
remedy?  Simply  divorce  at  once  the  police  de- 
partments from  politics,  and  under  civil  service  ex- 
amination, put  intelligent,  qualified  men  on  the 
force.  This  is  not  only  to  serve  honestly  the  com- 
munity but  your  fellow  citizen,  the  policeman,  as 
well.  It  is  not  serving  vicious  private  inter- 
ests, which  grant  to  the  police  a  license  to  be  dis- 
honest, to  shoot  down  or  club  to  death  homeless 
men  on  the  street  —  which  not  infrequently  results 
in  the  finding  of  policemen  shot  to  death  in  vicious 
retaliation,  supposedly  always  by  a  criminal. 
Then  abuse  will  cease.  As  an  example,  I  know  of 
no  better  policed  city  than  Boston.  Study  these 


CONCLUSION  323 

men  closely.  Their  spirit  is  kindliness.  Though 
they  may  be  armed  as  a  protection  from  the  drink- 
crazed,  there  is  no  evidence  of  gun  or  club.  They 
are  not  seen  drinking  in  the  saloons.  They  do  not 
meet  you  with  rum-befouled  breaths  as  in  most 
cities,  but  with  a  welcoming  face  and  a  clear  eye. 
Here  the  unfortunate  is  given  kindly  consideration. 
In  return,  the  Boston  public  seems  to  co-operate 
in  helping  the  police.  The  secret  of  this  valued 
quality  of  the  police  of  Boston  lies  in  the  fact  that 
the  police  are  indirectly  appointed  by  the  Governor 
of  the  State, —  that  is,  the  Governor  appoints  the 
Police  Commissioner,  and  he  in  turn  chooses  his 
officers,  after  they  have  passed  a  satisfactory  civil 
service  examination  at  the  State  House.  Such  po- 
lice officials  should  not  receive  the  sobriquet  of 
"bull"  or  "cop,"  but  that  of  "officer"  and 
"  gentleman." 

The  American  citizen  who  chances  to  be  a  police 
officer  is  not  brutal  by  choice,  but  by  command  of 
the  system  which  forces  him  to  be  brutal.  In  muni- 
cipalities where  police  brutality  is  their  shame,  the 
change  can  only  come  through  the  elector  and  the 
tax-payer.  A  well  regulated  city  is  one  founded 
on  the  human  rights  of  all  the  people,  and  a  well 
regulated  police  is  the  strong  right  arm  of  a  good 
city  government. 

"  What  of  the  impostor  at  the  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Home?" 

Study  teaches  us  that  the  out-of-work  men  who 


324  "BROKE" 

are  so  from_choice,  those  that  are  mentally  and 
pliysically  normal,  among  the  migratory  workers, 
are  exceedrnglj^rare.  If  we  hesitate  at  a  Muni- 
cipal Emergency  Home  and  let  ninety  worthy  men 
suffer  or  perish  because  ten  out  of  the  hundred  are 
unworthy,  why  not  close  our  public  libraries,  our 
hospitals,  our  parks,  in  fact,  every  public  benevo- 
lence, lest  some  unworthy  ones  creep  in? 

We  strive  to  weed  out  the  impostor  in  many 
communities  by  throwing  all  idle  men  in  prison, 
and  when  they  cannot  be  used  as  a  graft,  and  be- 
come an  expense,  or  the  awakened  humane  spirit 
of  the  city  demands  that  they  shall  no  longer 
commit  this  outrage,  they  are  often  run  out  of 
town.  Or,  after  they  have  been  humiliated  by  ar- 
rest, they  are  hauled  in  the  police  wagons  to  the 
outskirts  of  the  city  with  a  prison  threat  not  to 
return,  and  turned  destitute  onto  the  next  com- 
munity. But  this  clearance  test  will  not  stand  the 
light  of  constitutional  liberty.  Though  our  mis- 
sions and  churches  are  filled  with  many  grand 
good  people,  the  crucial  treatment  of  the  wage- 
earner  is  the  underlying  reason  for  the  crumbling 
of  our  Christian  faith.  The  Carpenter  of  Nazareth 
never  questioned  the  man  in  need  who  came  to 
learn  of  Him.  To  heal  him,  that  was  the  pre- 
dominant thought  of  His  mind. 

Are  we,  all  of  us,  quite  sure  that  we  have  not, 
during  some  period  of  our  lives,  appeared  true 
and  genuine  when  false?  Let  us  not  forget  that 


CONCLUSION  325 

the  highest  conception  of  a  citizen  of  a  Christian 
city  is  not  what  a  man  was  yesterday,  but  what 
he  is  to-day,  and  what  he  is  going  to  be  to-morrow, 
and  what  we  are  going  to  help  him  to  be. 

There  is  an  eternal  law  that  what  is  good  and 
true  for  us  individually  is  good  and  true  for  us 
collectively.  Let  us  be  self-reliant.  To  take  the 
attitude  that  history  does  and  must  repeat  itself  is 
the  attitude  of  cowards. 

"  The  reason  of  idleness  and  crime  is  the  defer- 
ring of  our  hopes ;  whilst  we  are  waiting  we  beguile 
the  time  with  jokes,  with  sleep,  with  eating  and 
with  crime."  This  was  Rome  under  the  rule  of  its 
monarchical  aristocracy  of  the  Third,  Fourth  and 
Fifth  Centuries.  Under  this  aristocracy,  greed  for 
position,  fame,  and  avarice  for  great  wealth,  was 
unparalleled. 

To  satisfy  this  greed,  they  built  great  monu- 
ments. They  drew  upon  the  entire  country  for 
labor  to  achieve  their  selfish  aim  and  end.  They 
not  only  lured  the  country's  populace  by  pomp  and 
glittering  gayety,  but  big  business  controlled  the 
land  for  speculation  and  selfish  pleasure,  forcing 
the  people  into  urban  centers.  Even  the  smaller 
cities  built  amphitheaters  and  "civic  centers" 
larger  than  the  population.  Then  the  gluttons  of 
big  business  discovered  that  basilicas,  monuments 
for  supposedly  great  men,  triumphal  arches,  marvel- 
ous fountains  and  temples  of  myth  were  a  poor 
relief  for  the  oppressed  wageearner.  When  too 


326  "BROKE" 

late,  they  reluctantly  offered  their  watered  charity 
in  free  baths,  free  coffee  and  free  soup,  but  the 
decadence  of  the  grandeur  of  the  eternal  city  had 
already  begun.  The  working  wage  slave  of  the 
ancient  Romans,  so  marvelously  clever  in  his  many 
crafts,  was  looked  upon  as  being  but  little  better 
than  the  animal  which  hauled  the  stone.  There 
was  no  recognition  of  equality  between  the  classes, 
nor  consequently  equal  sharing  of  profits  of  produc- 
tion, or  the  creation  of  any  public  government  in- 
stitutions as  a  privilege  of  labor  by  the  right  of 
toil,  to  care  for  the  bodily  needs  of  the  normal 
and  healthy  man  who  might  need  such  an  institu- 
tion. The  monarchical  aristocracy  of  the  Roman 
Empire  did  not  believe  in  those  things.  But  our 
political  and  industrial  interests  in  this  country 
are  awakening  to  the  fact  that  the  foundation  of 
all  business  is  food,  shelter  and  clothing,  and  that 
the  honest  demands  of  the  people  for  the  essentials 
of  life  shall  be  met  and  honestly  distributed.  They 
are  recognizing  that  a  reserve  of  unemployed  labor 
is  necessary  to  the  progress  of  our  industries 
and  the  promotion  of  our  civilization,  and  the  ne- 
cessity of  conserving  that  unemployed  force. 

We  recognize  that  we  are  builders  and  that  we 
are  going  to  have  a  great  name  —  not  of  the  Third, 
Fourth  and  Fifth  Century,  but  of  this,  the  Twenti- 
eth Century,  our  century, —  that  we  have  already 
conquered  sea  and  sky,  and  have  put  the  "  girdle 
'round  the  earth  in  forty  minutes." 


CONCLUSION  327 

But  every  marvelous  achievement,  every  boasted 
cry  of  liberty  to  make  us  free,  will  never  make  us 
great,  until  we  learn  that  our  ruling  power  must 
be  God's  law  of  right  and  love. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

VISIONS 

"  Where  there  is  no  vision  the  people  perish." 

—  PROVEBBS,  29 : 18. 

DURING  my  social  study  I  was  asked  by 
the  president  of  a  Charity  Board  to  be- 
come an  employee  of  the  city  Board  of 
Charity  and  Corrections  in  a  Western  city.  The 
Board  consisted  of  three  members.  The  president 
was  a  young  Presbyterian  minister  who  was  just 
beginning  to  catch,  through  the  mist  of  tradition, 
the  light  of  new  things.  The  other  two  members 
of  the  Board  were  women,  one  the  daughter  of  a 
corporation  lawyer,  a  young  lady  of  large,  kind 
heart,  who  for  some  time  was  connected  with  the 
United  Charities  of  Chicago  and  who  seemed  to 
believe  in  their  ancient  system  of  charity  in  meet- 
ing the  problem  of  destitution.  The  other  was  an 
estimable  Jewish  lady  who  had  some  decided  opin- 
ions in  regard  to  comfortable  jails  for  honest, 
homeless,  shelterless  women  and  girls.  Consider- 
ing the  services  of  these  estimable  people  on  the 
Board,  gratuitous  criticism  would  be  unfair  and 

328 


VISIONS  329 

much  praise  is  due  them  for  their  conscientious 
work  and  the  initiative  taken  in  many  effectual 
reforms  which  to  them  will  be  a  lasting  monument. 

After  six  weeks'  service  I  was  found  fault  with 
by  the  Board,  but  the  only  charge  against  me  was 
that  I  was  a  visionist.  It  was  rather  singular 
though  that  this  charge  should  come  on  the  day 
following  my  visit  to  the  County  Poor  Farm,  the 
story  of  that  visit  being  told  in  one  of  the  local 
papers  the  following  day.  I  could  not  deny  that 
I  was  not  guilty,  for  the  press  had  exposed  me,  not 
only  as  a  visionist  who  saw  things,  but  as  one  who 
told  things.  In  fact  I  had  been  seeing  and  telling 
things  for  six  weeks.  There  seemed  to  be  "the 
rub."  I  was  not  a  politician. 

And  so  I  was  dismissed  "  broke  "  as  far  as  the 
city  Charity  Board  was  concerned,  as  a  very 
pleasing  vision  I  failed  to  see  was  my  six  weeks' 
salary.  But  this  can  readily  be  accounted  for  as 
the  city  at  this  writing  was  "broke"  and  I  was 
forced  to  be  content  with  a  postponement.  With 
me,  to  meet  postponement  gracefully  had  become 
a  virtue,  for  I  had  long  since  learned  to  postpone 
such  a  non-consequential  thing  as  a  meal  a  good 
many  times,  but  I  think  I  never  missed  any. 

Ah,  the  visions  of  that  six  weeks,  I  can  assure 
you,  were  not  visions  of  angels  ascending  and  de- 
scending ladders!  The  first  was  that  of  an  old 
rookery  building,  with  a  ten  cent  tin  sign  on  which 
was  written  "  City  Board  of  Charities,"  directly 


330  "BROKE" 

opposite  the  city  jail,  where  all  day  long,  and  all 
night  long,  men  and  women  either  directly  or  in- 
directly, for  the  crime  of  poverty,  were  being 
forced  behind  its  iron  bars,  and  walls  of  stone. 

It  was  obvious  that  the  first  thought  of  both 
beggar  and  criminal,  or  the  supposed  criminal 
forced  to  come  that  way,  was  charity  and  correc- 
tion, one  at  the  door  of  the  alms  station  and  the 
other  at  the  door  of  the  police  station.  But  he 
who  has  been  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  victims 
of  these  two  municipal  institutions  and  has  read 
through  the  pleading,  parched  lips  and  tear- 
stained  faces  of  the  victims  of  both  these  places, 
has  learned  an  immutable  lesson  and  can  not  re- 
frain from  crying  out  for  a  better  and  a  greater 
social  life.  One  who  observes  will  quickly  see 
throughout  our  nation  how  closely  allied — 'in  all 
their  phases  —  are  Charity  and  Prisons  and  Mis- 
sions. While  the  church  is  lifting  one  thousand 
out  of  the  gutter,  society,  by  a  destructive  social 
system  and  evil  influences,  is  pushing  ten  thousand 
in.  Charity  keeps  many  from  actually  starving  to 
death,  yet  the  ever-increasing  number  of  our  needy 
is  even  "  greater  than  man  can  number."  What  is 
the  price  we  pay? 

My  practical  work  with  this  board  was  that  of 
investigator,  that  is,  I  was  sent  out  to  see  if  the  ap- 
plicant for  aid  were  really  worthy,  to  see  that  the 
Charity  Board  was  not  being  robbed  by  dishonest 
mendicants.  Charity  organizations  seemed  to  be 


VISIONS  331 

not  so  much  concerned  with  the  relief  of  the  help- 
less as  with  protecting  the  well-to-do  from  imposi- 
tion on  the  part  of  those  who  claim  they  are  in 
distress.  I  was  given  approximately  eighty  ques- 
tions to  ask.  I  was  expected  to  follow  up  these 
questions  —  many  of  them  questions  of  reference 
-  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  whether  the  ap- 
licants  for  aid  were  really  telling  the  truth.  I  re- 
belled a  little  at  first  at  the  thought  of  conducting 
this  third  degree  inquisition.  It  was  even  repul- 
sive for  me  to  enter  the  door  of  the  humblest  home 
and  state  I  was  from  the  Charity  Board.  I  would 
so  much  rather  have  said  that  I  was  from  the  city 
Department  of  Public  Service  for  Labor. 

From  my  first  day,  however,  I  continued  to  see 
visions, —  not  visions  of  great  numbers,  not  of 
saints,  but  of  thousands  of  workingmen's  vacant 
homes,  deserted  for  lack  of  work  due  to  the  in- 
ability of  these  workingmen  to  earn  a  living.  I 
saw  the  truth  most  forcibly  revealed  that  again  the 
foundation  of  all  business  was  a  comfortable  exist- 
ance  and  an  opportunity  to  earn  those  comforts 
and  the  right  of  existance  by  labor,  and  that  people 
must  have  that  privilege  or  be  forced  to  go  where 
it  can  be  had.  I  saw  many  of  those  who  remained 
struggling  to  tide  themselves  over,  hoping  for  a 
better  day.  Many  were  helpless  for  lack  of  means 
to  get  away,  and  had  therefore  become  dependents 
of  the  State  and  city. 

I  saw  nearly  all  of  our  attempted  factories  in 


332  "BROKE" 

ruins,  and  four  thousand  workingmen  driven  from 
the  city  by  the  smelter  trust;  and  then  came  again 
the  glowing  vision  of  sixty  million  pounds  of  wool, 
and  an  enormous  production  of  cotton,  grown  an- 
nually in  a  radius  of  five  hundred  miles  around  our 
very  doors.  This  raw  material  was  being  shipped 
two  thousand  miles  to  be  worked  into  the  most 
essential  commodities.  Every  day  we  were  walking 
over  the  finest  glass  sand  in  the  world,  yet  we  were 
denied  the  benefit  of  that  most  needful  and  profit- 
able industry.  I  knew  we  dwelt  in  the  heart  of  the 
leather  producing  district  of  the  nation  and  yet  no 
shoe  factories.  These  are  but  a  few  of  the  raw  ma- 
terials in  the  region  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
.Western  States.  One  who  has  made  a  study 
of  industrial  economics  knows  too  well  why  the 
State  of  Colorado  has  (to  speak  comparatively) 
but  seven  people  to  the  square  mile.  He  well 
knows  one  reason  to  be  the  protective  associations 
which  protect  big  business  instead  of  protecting 
the  people, —  forever  crying  down  co-operative  in- 
dustry which  is  for  the  good  of  all. 

In  the  homes  of  these  asking  alms  which  I  visited, 
I  saw  the  fearful  destroying  effect  on  character 
of  the  wolf  as  he  peered  through  broken  pane,  and 
the  cracks  and  crannies  of  door  and  wall.  I  saw 
the  humiliating  tears  and  flushed  faces  of  those 
who  for  the  first  time  were  forced  to  beg.  It  was 
exactly  like  those  of  my  associates  who  for  the 
first  time  had  been  thrust  into  prison.  It  needed 


VISIONS  333 

but  a  glance  to  tell  me  whether  they  had  received 
"  charity  "  before,  for  there  is  always  the  spirit  of 
being  hardened  to  the  "  disgrace,"  just  as  there  is 
in  the  manner  in  which  the  prisoner  treats  the  sit- 
uation if  he  has  previously  "  done  time." 

Little  children  it  is  said  will  tell  the  truth  when 
men  and  women  lie.  I  saw  the  father  and  mother, 
with  the  hope  of  making  an  impressive  plea,  lest 
they  fail  to  obtain  the  needed  food  and  fuel,  pre- 
varicate in  replying  to  my  many  questions,  or  per- 
haps remain  non-committal,  but  often  the  little 
child  at  hand,  conscious  of  the  practiced  deceit  of 
the  parent,  would  speak  the  truth.  Then  would 
follow  the  austere  look  of  reproof  from  the  parent 
or  a  sudden  banishing  from  the  room.  The  cheer- 
less house,  the  starving  home  was  sowing  the  seed 
of  crime.  I  was  a  destroying  angel.  I  wras  black- 
mailing my  helpless  victims  into  dishonesty  just 
as  the  plain-clothes  man  or  uniformed  police  black- 
mail the  poor  white  slave  of  the  Red-light  District 
and  the  homeless,  out-of-work  man  of  the  street. 

In  my  daily  investigations  I  saw  the  dipsomaniac 
pleading  for  help,  yet  this  city  offered  no  asylum 
for  such  as  he  except  the  city  and  county  jail.  I 
saw  the  poor  tubercular  victim  clinging  to  the 
thread  of  life,  dying  from  malnutrition,  wrho,  per- 
haps, could  have  gained  his  health  under  different 
circumstances.  I  saw  hundreds  of  strong,  hardy 
men  demanding,  by  the  divine  right  of  living,  the 
necessities  of  life.  I  saw  the  mother  suffering 


334  "BROKE" 

from  privation,  who  saw  no  future,  and  was  with- 
out hope,  whose  soul  and  body  throbbed  with  the 
life  of  the  unborn  babe,  whose  demand  was  greater 
than  the  single  life  of  man, —  the  demand  for  the 
divine  right  of  motherhood.  And  again  I  saw  a 
vision, —  a.  general  view  of  the  private  and  public 
institutions,  both  benevolent  and  correctional, 
which  were  in  the  city  and  which  were  crowded  to 
overflowing  because  of  poverty.  Then  came  my 
fatal  vision, —  my  visit  to  the  fcoprFano^ 

The  greatest  city  of  the  State  is  usually  the  foun- 
tain head,  the  output  camp  for  the  entire  State. 
When  the  unfortunate  become  homeless,  helpless 
and  needy,  they  drift  to  the  capital.  The  burden 
of  the  indigent  of  the  entire  State  is  thus  put  upon 
that  particular  city  and  county.  I  saw  a  great 
number  turned  away  from  the  Poor  House  door  be- 
cause of  its  already  congested  condition,  who  were 
then  obliged  to  exploit  the  community  in  other 
ways  for  the  right  of  existence.  I  saw  in  the  tu- 
bercular ward  twenty-five  men  in  all  stages  of  the 
disease,  and  yet,  not  one  a  native  of  the  State. 
Some  had  been  in  the  State  only  three  weeks.  They 
represented  every  part  of  our  country.  There  was 
absolutely  no  provision  made  by  this  city,  'county, 
or  State  for  the  indigent,  tubercular  woman  or  girl. 
I  had  already  heard  continually  in  the  homes  of  the 
needy  the  appealing  cry  of  the  poor  who  suffer 
and  wait,  hoping  against  hope  for  life  and  health, 
asking  in  one  mighty,  smothered  sob  for  a  National 


VISIONS  335 

Tubercular  Sanitarium,  an  institution  which  every 
State  west  of  the  Mississippi  River  should  have. 

In  the  blind  ward  of  this  traditional  place  for 
those  who  have  missed  their  aim  ( pioneers  many  of 
them,  who  hewed  the  logs  and  held  the  plow  and 
blazed  the  trails  from  '59  to  '85),  I  saw  twenty 
blind,  thirteen  of  whom  were  rendered  blind  by 
mine  accidents,  looking  forward  in  the  darkness, 
ever  in  the  darkness,  for  a  home  that  has  not  the 
stigma  of  charity,  the  infamy  of  a  Poor  House. 
Looking  forward  for  the  home  which  is  theirs  by 
inheritance,  and  every  one  a  native  of  the  State  to 
which  Winfield  Scott  Stratton,  the  multi-million- 
aire mining-man  and  philanthropist,  left  ten  mil- 
lion dollars  to  build  and  support  ten  years  ago! 
He  left  it  in  the  hands  of  three  exceedingly  wealthy 
trusted  friends  to  carry  out  his  wishes  who  dwell 
and  live  in  palaces  amidst  beautiful  surroundings, 
and  as  yet  no  home  has  been  built,  and  meanwhile 
the  burying-ground  of  that  final  retreat,  the  Poor 
House,  becomes  ever  increasingly  dotted  with  the 
new-made  graves.  Monies  belonging  to  these  help- 
less, pioneer  citizens  who  earned  it  by  the  right  of 
enduring  hardships  and  toil,  money  belonging  to 
the  hard-working  people  of  the  State,  and  to  men 
still  in  the  harness,  this  money  is  denied  while  the 
people  at  large  are  overburdened  with  taxation  for 
the  support  of  monarchical,  handed-down  institu- 
tions,—  a  burden  from  which  they  can  get  no  re- 
lief. This  vision  of  truth  thrown  upon  the  canvas 


336  "BROKE" 

of  progress  and  humanity  is  forcibly  applicable  to 
every  Western  State,  in  its  appeal  for  an  intelli- 
gent and  humane  conservation  of  its  citizens  and 
most  particularly  the  wage-earning  citizen.  And 
although  these  few  pages  can  only  hint  at  the  truth 
revealed,  they  speak  for  National  governmental 
action  in  placing  our  people  on  the  lands  and  the 
erection  of  national  institutions  for  our  sufferers 
of  the  white  plague.  For  co-operative  industries 
of  equity  by  and  for  the  people;  for  governmental 
ownership  of  all  public  utilities  and  State  institu- 
tions for  our  unfortunate,  looking  toward  the  dawn 
of  that  glad,  new  day  the  light  which  is  beginning 
to  glow  through  the  press  of  this  country.  In  Den- 
ver and  many  of  the  other  Western  cities  there  is  a 
movement  for  a  better  and  a  greater  West.  Al- 
ready in  the  new  vision  for  the  State  of  Colorado 
they  have  taken  the  citizen  from  behind  stone  walls 
and  iron  bars.  The  cities  are  creating  municipal 
labor  for  the  temporarily  out-of-work  man,  which 
hand  in  hand  with  Municipal  Emergency  Homes  is 
just  to  tide  over  the  rough  place.  Imperfect  and 
incomplete  as  its  experimental  beginning  may  be, 
who  can  deny  the  awakening  of  a  perfect  aim  to- 
ward a  perfect  end?  There  is  no  wall  of  preju- 
dice or  selfishness,  of  ambition  or  unnatural  greed, 
which  can  be  built  that  will  overcome  these  argu- 
ments. These  needs  must  be  met  and  shall  be.  No 
government  can  .stand  that  is  not  founded  on  God's 
governing  laws  of  humanity. 


APPENDIX 

MUNICIPAL  EMERGENCY  HOMES  vs.  CHARITABLE 
LODGING  HOUSES 

IN  the  hope  that  the  story  contained  in  these 
pages  shall  not  have  been  recorded  in  vain, 
the  author  begs  to  offer  a  few  suggestions  in 
regard  to  Municipal  Emergency  Homes.  Unless 
rightly  built  and  rightly  conducted  they  may  prove 
worse  than  useless.  That  the  need  is  great  none 
can  deny,  and  the  institution  should  be  strictly  for 
the  purpose  of  filling  that  need.  The  suggestions 
contained  in  the  following  paragraphs  may  solve 
some  of  the  perplexities  which  confront  the  city 
wishing  to  build  an  institution  such  as  the  situa- 
tion demands. 

THE  FIRST  STEP. 

In  every  State  of  the  Union,  the  Legislature 
should  pass  a  bill  giving  cities  the  right,  under 
home  rule,  to  erect  and  maintain  a  Municipal 
Emergency  Home.  Every  city  ought  to  pass  an 
ordinance  for  the  creation  and  maintenance  of  such 
Municipal  Emergency  Homes,  and  the  budget  of 

339 


340  APPENDIX 

the  city  should  contain  an  appropriation  for  its 
maintenance,  based  on  the  same  reasons  on  which 
the  appropriation  is  granted  for  running  the  Health 
Department,  Police  Department,  or  any  other  De- 
partment of  the  Municipal  Government. 

The  ordinance  to  be  passed  by  the  city  council 
ought  to  create  and  develop  a  system  that  will 
give  protection  and  opportunity  to  every  honest 
wandering  citizen  while  sojourning,  in  search  of 
work,  in  the  community. 

In  the  cities  of  New  York  and  Boston,  an  appro- 
priation is  made  from  the  public  treasury  for  the 
care  and  maintenance  of  their  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Homes.  In  Chicago  a  special  budget  is 
created  and  added  to  the  appropriation  of  the  Po- 
lice Department.  It  should  properly  have  been 
added  to  the  Health  Department. 

THINGS  TO  AVOID. 

A  Municipal  Emergency  Home  should  not  be 
designed  to  be  a  money-making  institution,  but 
merely  to  provide  shelter  and  food  for  men  and 
women  who  appear  temporarily  destitute.  If  it 
should  appear  that  those  demanding  shelter  in  the 
Municipal  Emergency  Home  should  be  afflicted 
with  any  physical  illness,  it  should  be  the  duty  of 
its  superintendent  to  transfer  such  individuals  to 
a  hospital  ward,  which  may  be  a  part  of  the  Muni- 
cipal Emergency  Home,  or  to  the  city  or  county 
hospital  where  each  man  or  woman  may  be 


APPENDIX  341 

thoroughly  cured  of  any  illness  which  has  put  them 
into  destitute  circumstances  or  is  unfitting  them 
to  perform  any  kind  of  labor  to  make  existence 
possible.  The  mind  of  the  community  is  being  edu- 
cated to  see  that  the  adjustment  of  individuals  to, 
a  suitable  environment  must  be  quickly  but  scien- 
tifically attempted.  If  unfit  they  must,  if  possible, 
be  made  fit.  The  idea  seems  to  be  dawning  that 
permanent  unfitness  must  be  met  with  permanent 
adjustment. 

A  PROTECTION  TO  SOCIETY. 

For  the  present,  the  Municipal  Emergency  Home 
stands,  or  rather  should  stand,  on  the  one  hand 
as  a  link  in  the  chain  of  governmental  institutions, 
not  only  as  a  public  policy  and  agency  which  sup- 
ports the  individual  who  either  fails  in  life  or  is 
compelled  to  be  one  in  the  ranks  of  destitute  men 
because  of  economic  conditions,  but  as  an  institu- 
tion wherein  one  may  receive  temporary  relief 
under  the  rights  of  citizenship.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  should  stand  for  the  protection  of  society  from 
the  degradations,  annoyances  and  misdemeanors  of 
the  individual  who  would  thus  be  a  burden  upon  his 
fellows  and  upon  society  as  a  whole.  In  other 
words,  the  Municipal  Emergency  Home  should  be 
one  maintained  and  conducted  strictly  ~by  the  mu- 
nicipality as  a  governmental  institution.  It  should 
be  the  tiding-over  place  for  the  man  or  the  woman 
without  a  job,  a  refuge  to  satisfy  immediate  needs, 


342  APPENDIX 

a  hospital  in  certain  cases  of  sickness,  an  asylum 
in  case  of  destitution. 

ESSENTIALS  TO  SUCCESS. 

The  author  believes  that  there  are  two  factors 
essential  to  the  success  of  a  Municipal  Emergency 
Home;  first,  the  co-operation  of  all  public  depart- 
ments in  the  city  government,  and  second,  the  co- 
operation of  the  public  itself.  When  because  of 
politics  it  has  been  found  difficult  to  introduce 
improvements  and  progressive  ideas  in  a  munici- 
pality for  relieving  the  temporarily  distressed,  it 
has  become  the  custom  to  recommend  religious  or 
private  charities  for  the  management  of  relief- 
granting  institutions.  But  no  one  can  question 
the  success  and  the  need  of  a  Municipal  Emergency 
Home  who  is  willing  to  investigate  the  wonderful 
success  of  the  New  York  Municipal  Lodging  House 
and  the  Buffalo  Municipal  Lodging  House.  These 
are  conducted  strictly  under  city  and  County  super- 
vision and  management.  As  such  results  as  have 
been  obtained  in  New  York  and  Buffalo,  and  which 
may  come  into  existence  in  any  large  city,  under 
public  management,  why  should  other  cities  ques- 
tion the  popularity  and  success  of  a  Municipal 
Emergency  Home  under  such  management  or  doubt 
its  advantages  over  those  mismanaged  by  religious 
and  private  charity,  the  latter  not  infrequently  run 
for  profit? 


APPENDIX  343 

USB  OF  APPROPRIATION. 

The  people  of  our  cities  may  expect,  and  should 
forcibly  demand  from  its  public  officials,  that  the 
money  expended  in  municipal  "  charities  "  should 
be  well  adapted,  elastic  in  its  application,  based 
upon  wise,  scientific  conclusions,  and  on  a  thorough 
exhaustive  experimentation. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  New  York  stands  in  the 
front  rank  as  the  worst  governed  city  in  America. 
But  when  such  a  city  creates  an  appropriation 
from  its  public  treasury  for  the  maintenance  and 
management  of  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home, 
there  can  be  no  reason  to  doubt  the  wisdom 
or  the  success  of  the  experimentation  of 
municipal  charities.  In  fact,  we  ought  not  to 
speak  of  municipal  charity,  but  rather  to  say  that 
the  city  appropriates  such  money  from  tax-payers 
as  has  been  earned  by  those  who  are  temporarily 
destitute, —  that  those  housed  in  such  municipal 
institutions  are  but  receiving  assistance  as  an  in- 
terest on  their  past  earnings.  A  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Home  should  not  be  considered  as  a  chari- 
table institution,  but  as  an  institution  offering  the 
right  to  every  toiler  to  receive  the  hospitality  of 
his  fellowmen  in  time  of  need. 

CO-OPERATION  OF  THE  PUBLIC. 

If  the  so-called  influential  and  responsible  peo- 
ple of  every  city  would  use  half  the  effort  they  now 


344  APPENDIX 

use  in  subscribing,  managing  and  advertising  pri- 
vate charitable  institutions  to  create  a  public  sen- 
timent so  that  the  city  would  establish  a  Municipal 
Emergency  Home  with  the  most  modern  features, 
and  if  they  then  would  continue  in  an  advisory 
and  co-operative  relation  to  it,  the  writer  does  not 
hesitate  to  express  his  belief  that  the  advantages, 
every  time,  would  be  on  the  side  of  a  Municipal 
Emergency  Home  or,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  on  any 
other  so-called  charitable  institution  managed  by 
the  community  itself  as  a  governmental  function 
and  in  a  co-operative  capacity. 

The  destitute  man  or  woman  who  is  compelled 
to  apply  for  temporary  relief  at  a  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Home  comes  immediately  into  the  care  of 
the  city  and  may  be  turned  at  once  to  the  protec- 
tive treatment  of  which  many  stand  in  need. 

RELATION  TO  THE  HEALTH  DEPARTMENT. 

It  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  the  fact  that  a  scien- 
tifically managed  Municipal  Emergency  Home  not 
only  raises  the  standard  of  other  lodging  houses 
in  the  city,  but  to  make  its  influence  most  effective, 
the  co-operation  of  the  Health  Department  is  ab- 
solutely necessary.  In  fact,  the  most  humane,  the 
most  scientific  and  in  all  respects  the  most  desir- 
able way  to  manage  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home 
is  through  the  direct  management  and  supervision 
of  the  city  Health  Department, —  never  under  that 
of  the  Police  Department.  The  institution  deals 


APPENDIX  345 

with  human  beings  who  are  out  of  adjustment  to 
the  community.  The  homeless,  wandering  citizen 
should  not  be  considered  as  a  derelict,  a  human 
monster,  a  criminal,  a  vagrant  and  what  not,  to  be 
hounded  to  death  by  the  brutal  police  system. 

PRIVATE  INSTITUTIONS  AND  THE  HEALTH  DEPARTMENT. 

All  religious,  charitable  and  private  lodging 
houses  also  should  be  under  a  rigid  inspection  of 
the  Health  Department  of  the  city,  lest  they  may 
become  dangerous  competitors  to  a  Municipal 
Emergency  Home  by  undoing  the  work  accom- 
plished by  this  exemplary  institution.  Because 
they  can  be  maintained  at  a  low  standard  of  clean- 
liness and  order,  they  are  sought  by  the  tired, 
weary,  homeless  workingman,  that  is, —  when  he 
has  the  money!  No  city  should  ever  countenance 
an  uninspected  sheltering  place  where  human 
beings  are  forced  to  congregate,  where  those  har- 
bored, in  many  instances,  communicate  disease  to 
the  country  boy,  seeking  a  job,  and  teach  him  les- 
sons in  mendicancy,  vice  and  crime. 

CO-OPERATION  OF  THE  CITY. 

All  public  departments,  especially  the  Health 
Department,  Public  Works,  Legal  Department, 
Labor  Department,  should  co-operate  with  the 
Municipal  Emergency  Home.  The  Health  Depart- 
ment should  look  after  the  physical  welfare  of  the 
city's  guests,  the  Department  of  Public  Works 


346  APPENDIX 

should  aid  by  giving  all  able-bodied,  willing  work- 
ers plenty  of  work  on  all  municipal  undertakings, 
and  by  paying  them  the  prevailing  scale  of  union 
wages  in  the  respective  industries.  The  Legal  De- 
partment should  care  for  and  protect  against  the 
private  exploitation  of  the  homeless  men  and 
women,  and  above  all  else,  shield  them  from  the 
undue  interference  of  the  police. 

EDUCATION  OF  THE  PUBLIC. 

As  to  the  co-operation  of  the  great  public  itself, 
honest  investigators  must  find  the  overwhelming 
advantages  in  every  respect  on  the  side  of  munici- 
pal management.  If  a  city  maintains  and  manages 
a  modern  Municipal  Emergency  Home,  charitably- 
inclined  private  doners  can  be  cheerfully  advised 
to  leave  the  entire  problem  to  the  city.  Thus  the 
great  many  charitable  and  quasi-charitable  insti- 
tutions that  have  failed  to  give  relief  where  relief 
was  most  needed  will  fail  to  find  support.  This 
is  exactly  the  purpose  of  all  municipal  and  govern- 
mental undertakings, — firmly  and  scientifically  to 
undertake  the  management  of  all  public  affairs, 
taking  it  out  of  the  hands  of  superficial  private  or- 
ganizations whose  inadequate  system,  instead  of 
doing  good  to  the  needy,  does  much  moral  harm. 

It  is  most  desirable  that  the  great  public  be 
aroused  and  educated  to  see  that  the  homeless, 
wandering  citizen  needs  special  treatment, —  that 
he  must,  if  necessary,  be  the  object  of  expert, 


APPENDIX  347 

scientifically-trained  solicitude,  and  that  the  public 
must  provide  that  scientific  service.  When  the 
public  can  be  so  educated,  all  applicants  for  shelter, 
food,  or  work  (whether  they  come  from  the  so- 
called  "  tramp,"  "  bum,"  or  "  hobo,"  at  the  back 
door,  or  from  the  man  on  the  street  who  begs  a 
dime,  or  from  the  Salvation  Army  representative 
on  the  street  corner,  or  from  others  who  promiscu- 
ously ask  donations  for  so-called  "  Lodging 
Houses")  may  safely  be  referred  to  the  Municipal 
Emergency  Home  where  the  expert  work  of  the 
community  is  being  done,  and  the  task  of  uplifting 
humanity  and  of  elevating  the  community  itself 
is  being  carried  forward  in  the  right  way. 

THE  PROBLEM  IN  OTHER  COUNTRIES. 

It  is  quite  remarkable  that  the  Poor  Law  in  Eng- 
land had  its  origin  in  an  attempt  to  meet  the  prob- 
lems of  the  homeless,  wandering  wage-earner. 
Yet  there,  as  here,  the  homeless  are  rather  on  the 
increase,  because  of  unjust  social  and  industrial 
conditions. 

Nicholl  quotes  the  following,  purely  utilitarian 
statement : 

"  The  usual  restraints  which  are  sufficient  for  the  well-fed,  are 
often  useless  in  checking  the  demands  of  the  hungry  stomachs. 
.  .  .  Under  such  circumstances,  it  might  be  considered  cheaper 
to  fill  empty  stomachs  to  the  point  of  ready  obedience  than  to 
compel  starving  wretches  to  respect  the  roast-beef  of  their  more 
industrious  neighbors.  It  might  be  expedient,  from  a  mere 
economical  point  of  view,  to  supply  gratuitously  the  wants  of 
able-bodied  persons,  if  it  could  be  done  without  creating  crowds 
of  additional  applicants." 


348  APPENDIX 

This  rudimentary  economic  advice  has  not  been  in- 
telligently understood  either  in  England  or  in  our 
country.  The  people  of  our  cities  still  look  on  while 
a  group  of  men  eat  the  cold  roast  beef  of  their  more 
fortunate  neighbors  —  calmly  look  on  and  take  no 
action. 

Eminent  scholars  and  authorities  on  economic, 
industrial  and  legal  questions  have  well  said,  many 
times,  that  repressive  measures  and  antagonistic 
treatment  are  never  sufficient  and  never  will  be. 
Educational,  constructive,  scientific  work  alone  will 
prevail.  The  religious  and  charitable  organiza- 
tions and  societies  may  ask  for  police  control  and 
supervision,  and  for  the  repression  of  vagrancy  in 
our  cities,  but  the  homeless  and  wandering  wage- 
earners  will  be  fed,  because  we  have  a  Christ-given, 
common  humanity. 

A  WOMAN'S  QUESTION. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  "  tramp  "  question,  the 
question  of  the  homeless,  hungry,  wandering  wage- 
earner  is  a  woman's  question.  It  is.  But  what 
made  it  such?  It  has  been  made  a  woman's  ques- 
tion by  the  indifference  and  ignorance  of  our  com- 
munities which  have  made  no  provisions  for  men 
and  boys,  women  and  girls,  who  are  hungry  and 
homeless. 

Women  as  well  as  men  have  represented  the  con- 
science of  our  communities  in  a  poor  fashion,  in  a 
most  dangerous  fashion,  in  a  criminal  fashion,  for 


APPENDIX  349 

they  have  created  just  about  as  many  "  tramps  " 
with  their  petty  little  charities,  as  the  man  who 
gives  dimes  on  the  street  for  a  night's  shelter. 
The  women  should  know,  the  men  too,  that  at  the 
back  doors  or  on  the  streets  we  cannot  do  the  right 
thing.  We  can  give  only  inadequate  relief.  We 
can  only  push  a  human  being  down  the  stairs  of 
manhood  to  the  level  of  a  parasite. 

THE  HISTORICAL  VIEW. 

Let  us  look  at  the  matter  historically.  We  find 
that  the  mendicant  of  the  Middle  Ages  stood  in 
much  the  same  relation  to  the  community  as  the 
modern  "  tramp,"  the  homeless,  wandering  wage- 
earner.  One  existed,  and  the  other  exists,  because 
of  a  certain  sentimentality  which  permits  one  group 
of  persons  to  live  on  the  industry  of  another  group. 
The  community  giving,  in  the  mediaeval  days,  was 
centered  in  the  monastery,  and  since  the  time  of 
Henry  VIII  the  State  has  assumed  that  function. 
The  monastery  cared  for  the  mediaeval  tramp. 
Let  the  Modern  Twentieth  Century  State  of  Civil- 
ization (if  such  we  may  call  our  time)  care  for 
and  cure  his  descendant,  the  homeless,  wandering 
wage-earner,  just  as  it  takes  care  of  the  other  needs 
of  the  people  in  the  respective  communities. 

To  be  logical,  every  American  city  should  main- 
tain a  Municipal  Emergency  Home  for  the  wander- 
ing citizen,  the  homeless  wage-earner,  in  order  to 
complete  the  system  of  governmental  institutions 


350  APPENDIX 

and  agencies  dealing  with  the  needs  of  a  modern 
complex  society. 


THE  LEGAL  ASPECT. 

Rightfully,  and  legally,  in  America,  the  so- 
called  Overseers  of  the  Poor,  the  Boards  of  Char- 
ities and  Corrections,  are  required  to  relieve  the 
homeless  and  destitute  at  their  discretion.  In 
many  cities  they  are  fulfilling  this  duty  toward 
the  men  temporarily  destitute  and  homeless  by 
graciously  permitting  them  to  be  sheltered  at  the 
insanitary,  degrading  police  stations,  to  be  fed 
with  water  concoctions,  to  sleep  in  a  dark  vermin- 
infested  corner  from  which  they  are  ordered  to 
move  on  in  the  morning.  Perhaps  this  is  acting  ac- 
cording to  their  discretion,  but  the  result  shows 
that  it  is  unwise  to  put  power  into  the  hands  of 
private  individuals  who  not  only  know  not  the  evil 
they  increase  but  who  could  scarcely  do  otherwise 
if  they  knew. 

Historically,  every  modern  city  should  maintain 
a  Municipal  Emergency  Home.  Logically,  it  ought 
to  do  it.  Legally,  it  must  do  it.  Let  it  no  longer 
be  a  woman's  or  a  man's  question,  ~but  our  question, 
the  cities'  question.  Let  us  all  say  that  there  must, 
nay,  there  shall  ~be  in  every  community  for  the  home- 
less, wandering  wage-earner,  a  decent,  modern, 
sanitary  shelter,  a  fitting  meal,  a  place  where  the 
community  can  give  individual,  discriminating, 
scientific  treatment,  where  there  is  an  opportunity 


APPENDIX  351 

to   get   suitable   work   to   make   a   decent   living 
possible. 

THE  MORAL  DUTY. 

Let  everybody  then  make  it  his  duty  to  appeal  to 
the  civic  pride  of  the  women  and  men  of  the  com- 
munity. Let  the  people  of  the  city  instruct  its 
Mayor  and  City  Council,  or  else  themselves  elect 
a  man  or  a  woman  to  supervise  the  management 
and  maintenance  of  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home 
of  integrity,  of  resource,  a  place  of  sagacious  and 
scientific  training.  Then,  and  not  until  then,  will 
the  women  of  our  cities  be  able  to  shut  their  doors, 
the  men  their  pockets,  and  point  with  pride  to  the 
Municipal  Emergency  Home,  which  in  every 
American  city  is  as  necessary  and  as  fundamental 
an  institution  as  a  hospital  itself.  In  fact  it  is 
a  human  psychological  hospital,  an  economic 
betterment  provider,  within  the  gates  and  welcome 
arch  of  every  city. 

The  name  of  the  institution  is  significant, — 
Municipal  Emergency  Home.  As  the  gate  of  the 
public  system  of  institutions  it  should  stand,  al- 
ways open  and  ready  to  receive  the  homeless, 
wandering  wage-earner  who  may  claim  its  hospi- 
tality. From  it,  he  or  she  may  go  forth  to  re- 
numerative  industry,  to  economic,  social  and  in- 
dustrial betterment  which  is  for  the  benefit  of  all 
humanity. 


WHAT   A   TWENTIETH   CENTURY   MUNICI- 
PAL EMERGENCY  HOME  SHOULD  BE 

IN  the  following  pages,  the  author  wishes  to 
give  in  detail  the  chief  aims,  objects  and  prin- 
ciples upon  which  a  model  Twentieth  Cen- 
tury Municipal  Emergency  Home  should  be  main- 
tained : 

I.  It  should  provide,  free  under  humane 
and  sanitary  conditions,  food,  lodging  and  bath, 
with  definite  direction  for  such  immediate  relief 
as  is  needed  for  any  man  or  boy,  woman  or  girl,  or 
even  families,  stranded  in  the  city  where  located, 
as  well  as  for  the  convalescent  from  the  hospital. 
It  should  be  able  to  give  employment  to  able-bodied 
men  and  boys,  women  and  girls,  provide  them  with 
the  necessaries  of  life,  and  make  it  possible  for 
them  to  be  economically  independent  of  the  future. 
This  should  be  the  chief  aim,  object  and  principle 
upon  which  the  maintenance  of  a  model  Twentieth 
Century  Municipal  Emergency  Home  is  based. 

All  consideration  of  causes,  all  efforts  toward 
the  enforcement  of  law  or  reform  in  legislation, 
are  secondary  to  this  first  duty  of  providing  a  hu- 

352 


APPENDIX  353 

inane  clearing-house  for  a  scientific,  systematic 
and  intelligent  distribution  of  the  industrial,  eco- 
nomic and  social  human  waste,  which  gathers  and 
disperses  from  season  to  season  in  the  urban 
centers  of  America  and  tends  constantly  to  fester 
into  idleness,  vice  and  crime.  While  the  demands 
of  this  human  clearing-house  will  be  no  small 
charge  upon  the  respective  municipalities,  the 
Municipal  Emergency  Home  will  be  primarily  an 
institution  of  social  service,  collecting  and  regu- 
lating the  entire  human  resource  of  the  city  for 
the  mutual  benefit  of  the  community  or  those  that 
serve  it  and  of  the  individual  that  is  served. 

This  idea  of  connecting,  in  the  most  direct  fash- 
ion possible,  the  social  strength  of  a  community 
with  the  individual  weakness  of  the  stranded  man 
or  boy,  woman  or  girl,  will  be  the  first  purpose  of 
a  Twentieth  Century  Municipal  Emergency  Home. 
To  further  this  end  its  location  should  be  easily  ac- 
cessible to  the  lodging  house  district  of  the  city. 
That  the  building  should  be  sanitary  and  fireproof, 
the  food  wholesome  and  nourishing,  the  beds  com- 
fortable and  clean,  one  man  to  a  bed,  not  "  double 
deckers,"  are  matters  of  course.  An  isolation 
ward  for  special  cases  such  as  men  suffering  from 
inebriety,  insanity,  venereal  disorders,  etc.,  is  a 
prime  requisite. 

A  system  of  registration  by  the  card  system 
ought  to  be  in  use,  each  card  giving  at  a  glance  the 
significant  facts  such  as  name,  age,  birthplace,  oc- 


354  APPENDIX 

cupation,  physical  condition,  reference,  residence, 
nearest  relative  or  friend,  number  of  lodgings,  dis- 
position of  the  case,  etc.  This  card  should  be 
filled  out  by  the  applicant  himself,  in  order  that  the 
visitor  may  not  be  humiliated  by  an  inquisition  of 
a  jail-  or  charity-like  character.  The  registration 
clerk  should  be  a  man  of  good  judgment,  a  man  of 
honor,  and  with  psychological  training  whose  ac- 
tions should  always  be  guided  by  firm  but  just  and 
human  motives.  Thorough  physical  investigation 
of  each  applicant,  and  the  investigation  of  the  cap- 
abilities of  each  applicant,  should  be  in  all  cases 
intelligently  conducted. 

Every  visitor's  clothing,  including  hat  and  shoes, 
should  be  thoroughly  fumigated  each  night.  All 
visitors  should  be  required  to  bathe  nightly  and 
only  shower  baths  should  be  used. 

A  comprehensive  physical  examination  of  each 
visitor  should  be  made  by  competent  examiners 
under  the  direction  of  a  physician  of  the 
Health  Department  of  the  city.  All  necessary 
operations,  supplies  for  simple  medicaments,  eye- 
glasses, crutches,  bandages,  trusses,  in  fact  every 
accoutrement  and  further  treatment,  if  necessary 
for  the  health  and  comfort  of  the  visitor,  should 
be  supplied  free.  An  entry  of  the  actual  phy- 
sical conditions  of  each  visitor  should  be  made  on 
his  registration  card  after  the  first  examination, 
and  any  change  therefrom  noted  thereon  as  it  may 
occur  from  time  to  time.  All  cases  of  infectious 


APPENDIX  355 

or  chronic  contagious  diseases  of  a  virulent  nature 
should  be  sent  at  once  to  the  isolation  ward.  The 
accuracy  and  care  of  this  department  is  of  im- 
mediate importance  to  the  health  of  the  entire  com- 
munity and  absolutely  essential  to  the  effective  and 
successful  administration  of  the  Home. 

Each  visitor  should  be  provided  with  an  abso- 
lutely clean  nightshirt  and  a  pair  of  slippers. 
The  dormitories  should  be  in  all  cases  comfortable 
and  quiet,  talking,  reading  and  smoking  therein 
strictly  prohibited. 

The  morning  call  ought  to  be  given  in  time  to 
permit  each  visitor  to  dress  for  breakfast  and  to 
be  sent  to  employment  if  he  or  she  is  able,  in  time 
for  the  day's  work.  The  visitors  desiring  to  find 
work  in  the  town  where  the  Municipal  Emergency 
Home  is  located  should  form  in  line  and  pass  the 
superintendent  for  distribution  in  accordance  with 
the  facts  of  each  case,  clearly  stated  on  each  record 
card,  as  to  the  physical  condition,  abilities  and  de- 
sires of  each  applicant  for  work.  This  is  the  crux 
of  the  ministry  and  the  administration  of  a  Twen- 
tieth Century  Municipal  Emergency  Home. 
Clear-sighted,  humane,  resourceful,  definite,  reso- 
lute action  is  now  demanded,  and  unless  this  de- 
mand is  met  with  scientific  exactness,  with  intelli- 
gent systematic  application,  the  whole  service  fails. 

The  superintendent  will  have  before  him  the  rec- 
ord card  of  every  visitor  containing  his  original 
story,  the  report  of  his  physical  condition,  occupa- 


356  APPENDIX 

tion,  and  such  further  important  facts  as  may 
have  been  discovered  in  the  course  of  his  relations 
with  the  Home.  Immediately  at  hand  will  be  the 
employment  resources  for  that  day,  the  name  and 
address  of  every  labor  union  headquarters,  every 
benevolent  association,  every  dispensary  and  hos- 
pital, city  and  business  directories,  railroad  and 
factory  directories  with  the  names  and  addresses  of 
the  respective  superintendents  under  whose  juris- 
diction the  employment  of  help  may  come.  Thus 
the  superintendent  will  be  capable  of  intelligent 
co-operation  with  all  agencies,  public  and  private, 
that  may  minister  to  the  varying  needs  of  the 
stranded  men  and  boys,  women  and  girls  whom  he 
is  to  distribute  and  start  on  their  way  to  inde- 
pendent, economic  usefulness  in  the  community. 

Men  and  women  of  all  ages,  nationalities,  occu- 
pations, misfortunes,  face  the  superintendent  and 
must  be  dealt  with  definitely,  but  wisely,  after  a 
rapid  comprehension  of  the  visitor's  needs,  his 
card  record,  and  the  resources  at  command.  No 
higher  test  can  be  made  of  human  judgment,  cour- 
age, right  feeling,  resource  and  common  sense. 

It  is  at  this  crucial  point  in  the  administration 
of  a  Municipal  Emergency  Home  that  one  feature 
of  the  model  home  stands  out  with  commanding 
significance.  This  is  the  Employment  Bureau. 
Daily  opportunity  for  paid  employment  is  the 
right  arm  of  the  most  effective  distribution, 
and  the  only  genuine  work  test.  Whether  this 


APPENDIX  357 

can  be  assured  or  not  in  any  given  city,  no  one  can 
say  until  it  has  been  fairly  applied  and  tried. 
When  the  employment  resources  of  any  city  are 
thoroughly  organized,  if  there  still  be  men  in  any 
considerable  number,  able  and  willing  to  work, 
who  cannot  be  given  paid  employment  and  who 
must  suffer  enforced  idleness  for  any  considerable 
length  of  time,  then  and  not  until  then,  will  we 
know  that  the  present  industrial  order  has  ab- 
solutely broken  down.  After  all  paid  employment 
has  been  thoroughly  taken  advantage  of,  coming 
as  it  does  from  private  resources,  the  respective 
municipalities  should  immediately  put  to  work  all 
able-bodied,  willing  wage-earners  on  municipal 
work  of  all  kinds  for  which  the  city  should  pay  them 
a  decent,  living  wage,  or  rather  the  prevailing 
scale  of  union  wages  in  the  respective  trades. 

There  is  an  increasing  number  of  people  in 
this  country  —  quiet,  hard-working,  hard-thinking, 
plain  folk  who  are  determined  to  know  the  facts 
of  our  present-day  industrial  and  social  system, 
and  while  enjoying  the  fruits  of  this  present  order, 
are  determined  to  defend  it  against  assaults. 
They  also  purpose  to  strive  mightily  in  righting 
whatever  wrongs  may  be  proven  to  exist.  The 
Municipal  Emergency  Home  will  help  to  supply 
these  people  with  the  real  knowledge  of  conditions 
in  the  underworld,  where  millions  of  honest,  able- 
bodied  men  and  women  are  forced  to  spend  their 
lives  in  enforced  economic  idleness  and  uselessness. 


358  APPENDIX 

One  of  the  most  significant  indications  of  the 
power  of  the  Municipal  Emergency  Home  is  the 
length  and  depth  of  its  searching  influence.  Its 
hooks  will  reach  clear  down  to  the  bottom  of  the 
human  sewerage,  in  the  dark  channels  of  life,  al- 
together unknown  to  the  "  other  half  "  of  our  hu- 
man society.  Without  disparaging  the  splendid 
work  of  other  helping  agencies  in  the  respective 
communities,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  their  influ- 
ence, their  hooks  of  help,  hang  too  high  to  catch 
many  worthy  persons  among  the  vast  army  of 
wandering  citizens  who  are  in  direst  need.  The 
"  Hang-out,"  the  "  Barrel-house,"  and  the  "  Free- 
flops  "  receive  many  times  more  human  drift  than 
Charity  Bureaus,  Missions  and  Workingmen's 
Homes.  This  is  seen  to  be  inevitable  when  the  con- 
ditions are  rightly  understood. 

Humankind  is  but  just  beginning  to  understand 
and  appreciate  the  everlasting  truth  of  that  great 
clause  of  Agur's  perfect  prayer :  "  Feed  me  with 
food  convenient  for  me,"  and  of  one  of  the  greatest 
sayings  in  the  Gospel  of  the  Kingdom :  "  For  I 
was  hungered  and  ye  gave  me  meat;  I  was  thirsty, 
and  ye  gave  me  drink;  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye 
took  me  in ;  naked  and  ye  clothed  me." 

The  stranded  man  or  boy,  woman  or  girl  needs 
food,  shelter  and  a  straightforward,  resourceful 
meeting  of  the  issues  of  his  or  her  human  life 
first.  After  that,  if  you  possess  sincerity,  faith 


APPENDIX  359 

and  clear  vision,  it  may  be  your  privilege  to  speak 
to  him  or  her,  with  controlling  power,  of  the  min- 
istry and  message  of  the  Son  of  Man. 

The  sympathetic  reader  may  well  ask :  "  How 
will  stranded  men  and  boys,  women  and  girls, 
learn  of  the  existence  of  a  Municipal  Emergency 
Home,  and  what  will  impel  the  unfortunate  woman 
or  girl  to  accept  its  altruistic,  humane  but  vigorous 
hospitality?" 

The  answer  is  easy.  It  has  already  been  discov- 
ered that  one  of  the  chief  sanctions,  one  of  the  main 
objects  for  municipal  direction  of  such  work  is  being 
a  municipal  enterprise,  a  part  of  the  city  adminis- 
tration, a  wing  of  its  manifold  governmental  func- 
tions, it  challenges  most  effectively  the  co-operation 
of  all  public  authorities.  The  very  first  step 
therefore  in  this  mandatory  municipal  co-operation 
will  be  the  closing  of  the  police  stations,  these  de- 
grading and  unsanitary  hells  of  our  barbaric  age, 
to  the  itinerant  or  local  toilers  who  have  been 
either  "  run  in  "  by  the  police  or  forced  to  find  shel- 
ter for  the  night,  and  provision  for  the  supply  of 
all  such  applicants  with  tickets  of  admission  and 
directions  to  the  Municipal  Emergency  Home. 
This  will  partly  relieve  the  police  stations  of  our 
cities  of  one  of  their  most  disagreeable  duties, 
rendered  in  the  past  without  any  adequate  means 
and  under  conditions  that  befouled  not  only  the 
stations  but  which  degraded  the  needy  visitors, 


360  APPENDIX 

thereby  encouraging  vagrancy,  crime  and  vice, 
creating  disease  and,  in  many  cases,  causing  un- 
timely deaths. 

The  second  answer  to  the  question  is  that  every 
policeman  will  be  required  to  carry  a  supply  of 
Municipal  Emergency  Home  tickets  in  his  pocket 
to  give  to  all  persons  discovered  in  need,  and  to 
those  found  begging.  These  must  be  accompanied 
by  a  warning  that  he  or  she  must  not  beg,  because 
of  the  consequences,  and  that  the  city  will  take 
care  of  their  monetary  necessities.  No  police  of- 
ficer should  be  allowed  to  interfere  or  endanger 
the  liberty  of  any  such  temporarily  destitute  peo- 
ple. All  railroad  stations  should  have,  in  a  con- 
spicuous place,  an  advertisement  of  the  Home,  call- 
ing the  stranded  wayfarer's  attention  to  its  exis- 
tence and  location.  Such  notices  will  prove  a 
blessing  to  them  and  a  saving  to  the  community. 
All  newspapers  should  co-operate  with  the  city  au- 
thorities in  printing  in  the  "  want  ads  "  column  the 
fact  of  the  existence  of  such  a  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Home,  its  location  and  the  possible  positions 
that  may  be  filled  by  applying  to  the  superinten- 
dent. 

A  most  important  step  should  be  to  provide 
every  homeless  man  or  boy,  woman  or  girl  who  may 
have  been  discharged  from  the  house  of  correc- 
tion, from  the  penitentiaries,  hospitals  or  other  in- 
stitutions, with  the  hospitality  of  the  Municipal 
Emergency  Home,  thereby  pledging  the  support 


APPENDIX  361 

and  good  faith  of  the  city  to  secure  him  food,  shel- 
ter, an  opportunity  for  honest  employment,  or  the 
right,  for  a  period,  while  enjoying  the  hospitality 
of  the  city,  to  look  about  for  such  labor  as  he  or  she 
may  prefer. 

No  one  who  lays  any  claim  to  enlightened  opinion 
upon  subjects  of  this  character  believes  any  longer 
that  arrest  and  incarceration  in  a  penal  or  correc- 
tive institution  is  a  final  answer  to  the  social  obli- 
gations of  the  community  in  behalf  of  the  so-called 
casual  vagrant,  the  wandering  citizen,  the  itinerant 
wage-worker,  or  petty  criminal,  as  they  are  mis- 
called. It  may  be  true,  perhaps,  that  a  three  or 
six  months'  imprisonment  is  the  only  present  avail- 
able means  for  "  straightening  up  a  drunk  "  or  get- 
ting some  "  evil  spirit  "  out  of  a  young  man's  heart. 
But  at  its  best  it  is  a  very  dangerous  medicine,  and 
surely  when  society  leaves  a  man  or  boy,  woman  or 
girl  at  the  prison  gate,  after  a  jail  sentence  of 
greater  or  less  duration,  and  tells  him  or  her  to 
shift,  each  for  himself  or  herself  as  best  they  may, 
it  is  simply  an  invitation  and  an  encouragement 
to  vagrancy,  vice,  crime  and  immorality. 

The  last  important  step  in  this  mandatory  muni- 
cipal co-operation  should  be  a  direct  attack  upon 
the  "  barrel-houses,"  "  free-flops,"  and  "  hang-outs," 
certain  cheap  lodgings  and  Missions.  To  continue 
a  campaign  against  vagrancy  by  an  indiscriminate 
raiding  of  such  resorts  has  proven  to  be  a  miserable 
failure.  If  there  is  no  other  free,  accessible  and 


362  APPENDIX 

serviceable  place  for  the  homeless  and  indigent 
man,  boy,  woman  or  girl,  they  will  simply  find 
another  center,  and  the  last  may  be  worse  than  the 
first.  On  the  other  hand,  having  understood  and 
provided  for  the  actual  needs  of  the  temporarily 
unemployed  homeless,  we  have  cut  off  the  base  of 
evil  supplies  of  "  the  mendicant  army "  through 
the  use  of  tickets  to  a  modern  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Home,  and  the  co-operation  of  all  other  mu- 
nicipal departments  and  the  great  public.  Then, 
and  not  until  then,  can  a  modern  Christian  com- 
munity strike  effectively  the  final  blow  against 
these  recruiting  stations  of  vice,  immorality,  crime 
and  disease. 

An  intelligent,  scientific,  systematic  and  central- 
ized campaign  of  publicity  must  be  ceaselessly 
carried  on  for  this  Free  Home.  Free  tickets  of 
direction  and  admission  must  be  constantly  dis- 
tributed through  fraternal  and  charitable  societies, 
labor  unions,  institutions,  hotels,  business  offices, 
churches,  clubs,  housewives,  railroad  conductors, 
brakemen,  and  other  officials  and  citizens.  As 
soon  as  it  is  generally  known  that  every  applicant, 
without  exception,  is  absolutely  certain  of  whole- 
some food  and  sanitary  shelter  free,  with  such 
help  next  morning  as  his  need  demands,  the  co- 
operation of  the  humane  public  will  be  immediate 
and  constant.  In  this  campaign  for  publicity  the 
daily  press,  through  news  items  and  editorial  com- 


APPENDIX  363 

merit,  should  be  the  most  powerful  ally  for  the  ex- 
tension of  the  service  to  the  needy. 

Two  vitally  important  considerations  of  ad- 
ministration now  claim  our  attention.  One  is  the 
matter  of  an  arbitrary  limitation  upon  the  number 
of  nights  one  of  these  unfortunate,  homeless, 
wandering  wage-earners  may  remain  and  enjoy  the 
hospitality  of  the  city.  The  other  is  the  question 
of  the  so-called  work-test,  so  much  asked  for  by 
charitable  organizations. 

This,  the  greatest  of  all  problems  confronting 
the  Municipal  Emergency  Home,  we  must  face 
courageously  in  the  endeavor  to  demonstrate  its 
practicability  to  social  service.  Either  in  the 
name  of  Christian  Brotherhood,  sympathy  for  un- 
fortunate humanity,  or  other  high  and  holy  senti- 
ments, men  are  given  to  "  cant."  So  they  exploit 
the  institution,  or  in  the  name  of  preventing  pau- 
perization, preserving,  a  man's  self-respect,  a  busi- 
ness administration,  and  other 'like  high  sounding 
terms,  the  institution  subtly  exploits  its  charges. 
This  much  seems  certain:  The  arbitrary,  lump 
method  of  dealing  with  men  is  always  and  every- 
where wrong  and  inhuman. 

A  model  Municipal  Emergency  Home  should  not 
have  an  arbitrary  time  limit  on  the  extension  of 
its  hospitality  to  the  needy.  The  injustice  of  such 
limitation  is  manifest  in  instances  such  as  that  of 
a  visitor  suffering  from  a  bruise,  wound,  broken 


364  APPENDIX 

arm,  injured  leg, —  of  one  who  is  awaiting  money 
from  friends,  or  transportation  home,  or  to  a  place 
where  employment  is  offered,  or  for  the  coming 
of  the  first  pay-day  after  being  re-established  in 
industry.  Neither  should  any  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Home  have  that  inhuman,  wasteful,  robbing 
work  test.  To  argue  or  reason  that  because  one 
hundred  or  more  men  and  boys  lined  up  in  front 
of  a  desk  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  are  alike 
because  of  the  fact  of  having  received  a  night's 
shelter  and  two  meals  and  that,  therefore,  each 
alike  should  do  three  hours'  work  on  a  wood  pile, 
or  in  the  city  streets,  is  to  say  the  least,  not  only 
unscientific,  but  inhuman  exploitation.  In  every 
such  group  there  will  be  found  not  only  a  wide 
difference  in  resources  and  needs,  but  a  wider  dif- 
ference in  men.  In  such  a  group  will  be  capable, 
earnest,  sober  and  willing  workingmen  displaced 
by  industrial  depression,  disturbances  or  inven- 
tions; all  classes  of  casual  laborers,  between  jobs; 
boys  seeking  their  fortunes ;  victims  of  child  labor ; 
disabled,  sick  and  aged  industrial  and  social 
waste ;  beats,  and  frequently  strays  from  the  higher 
walks  of  professional  criminals.  All  these  chal- 
lenge intelligent  and  resourceful  discrimination. 
Surely  the  true  interest  of  the  community  as  well 
as  that  of  the  unfortunate,  wandering  citizen,  is 
best  served  by  at  once  sending  men,  able  and  will- 
ing to  work,  to  paid  employment;  separating  the 


APPENDIX  365 

boys  of  tender  ages  from  this  human  drift,  and 
starting  them  home  or  to  steady,  profitable  em- 
ployment for  the  security  of  their  future ;  directing 
the  sick,  infirm  or  aged  to  such  institutions  as  will 
best  minister  to  their  needs. 

The  writer's  personal  experiences  and  observa- 
tions of  the  lump  work  test  in  operation,  as  he 
saw  it  in  the  various  religious  and  charitable  lodg- 
ing houses  throughout  the  country,  seem  to  justify 
the  following  statement: 

First.  The  worthy,  average  visitor  to  a  Muni- 
cipal Emergency  Home  will  work  diligently. 
Those  chained  by  habits  of  vice  will  shirk.  The 
crippled,  sick  and  aged  will  simply  "  mark  time." 
This  results  in  the  most  fit  man  in  the  group  being 
exploited  for  t*he  benefit  of  the  least  fit,  and  in 
putting  upon  the  backs  of  those  members  of  the  com- 
munity least  able  to  bear  this  burden,  part  of  the 
charitable  charge  for  the  incompetent  and  un- 
worthy. 

Second.  There  seems  to  be  little  foundation  for 
the  idea  that  a  lump  work  test  conserves  a  man's 
self-respect.  On  the  contrary  the  conditions  of  its 
application  are  such  as  must  always  be  more  or 
less  degrading,  and  it  invariably  operates  to  hold 
together  the  good  and  bad  elements  of  a  group,  to 
the  inevitable  injury  of  the  good. 

Third.  Where  the  lump  work  test  involves  some 
financial  benefit  for  the  institution,  the  best  of 


366  APPENDIX 

superintendents  become  less  eager  to  re-establish 
his  most  fruitful,  most  capable,  willing-to-work 
visitors  in  paid  industry. 

Fourth.  As  an  indication  of  character,  the  work 
test  is  almost  valueless.  Men  of  ordinary  sense 
see  through  the  thin  disguise  of  the  claim  that  it 
helps  to  preserve  their  self-respect,  and  recognize 
its  true  lineaments  as  a  subtle  exploitation  that 
deprives  them  of  the  opportunity  of  getting  paid 
employment  for  that  day,  or  as  a  penal  service  to 
prevent  their  frequent  return. 

Fifth.  The  quick  deterioration  of  even  fairly 
good  workmen  through  getting  used  to  a  low  stand- 
ard of  living  by  charitable  contributions  that 
lessen  the  economic  pressure  and  seem  to  offer 
escape  from  the  legitimate  costs  of  life,  is  apparent 
to  every  thoughtful  observer.  Hard  times,  and  an 
empty  stomach,  make  it  easy  to  submit  to  the  kindly 
exploitation  of  a  "  Flop-house  "  wood-yard.  The 
loss  of  self-respect  is  forgotten  in  relief  from  the 
necessity  of  trying  to  play  a  man's  part  in  the  in- 
dustrial order,  until  the  man  that  was  an  inde- 
pendent, capable,  willing,  but  unfortunate  wage- 
earner  is  transformed  into  a  half-parasite, —  an  in- 
dividual of  a  special  character,  a  man  whose  face 
is  familiar  only  to  charity  workers,  and  to  the 
charitably-inclined  public. 

Summing  up  the  effect  of  these  two  arbitrary 
lump  restrictions  it  seems  that  they  operate  al- 
ways to  the  injury  of  the  service  and  are  tolerated 


APPENDIX.  367 

for  one  of  three  reasons.  The  first  is  that  they 
provide  some  check  upon  the  number  and  return 
of  the  visitors.  The  second  is  that  they  provide  a 
subtle  means  of  exploiting  helpless  men  for  the 
financial  benefit  of  the  institutions,  and  the  third, 
that  the  institution  thereby  escapes  the  obligations 
of  discriminating  and  effective  distribution. 

Mr.  Raymond  Robins,  the  first  superintendent  of 
the  Chicago  Municipal  Lodging  House,  in  sub- 
stantiation of  the  above  argument  says : 

"  It  may  be  well  to  say  that  the  Chicago  Municipal  Lodging 
House  began  operations  with  both  restrictions  in  force.  A  three 
nights'  limit  and  three  hours'  work  daily  from  each  able-bodied 
lodger  were  required  by  the  rules.  Experience  and  observation  of 
the  results  of  the  enforcement  of  these  restrictions  in  Chicago 
and  other  cities  convinced  the  administration  that  they  were 
cruel  and  unjust.  The  substitution  of  an  employment 
bureau,  effective  co-operation  with  other  charitable  and  correc- 
tional agencies,  and  daily  discriminating  distribution,  have  en- 
abled the  Chicago  Municipal  Lodging  House  to  abolish  both  re- 
strictions entirely.  Not  only  has  this  substitution  not  resulted 
in  overcrowding  the  house  or  increasing  the  number  of  human 
parasites  that  seek  its  hospitality,  but,  on  the  contrary,  the  pro- 
portion of  the  worthy  men  has  steadily  risen  under  the  new 
regime.  The  '  Chicago  System '  provides  food,  lodging,  baths  and 
distribution  for  a  maximum  of  two  hundred  lodgers  daily  at  an 
annual  cost  to  the  municipality  of  ten  thousand  dollars." 

In  conclusion,  let  it  be  understood  that  the  key- 
word for  the  successful  administration  of  a  model 
Municipal  Emergency  Home  is  co-operation, —  co- 
operation in  the  interior  management,  co-operation 
in  all  external  relations,  co-operation  with  all  ex- 
isting agencies  for  human  service,  co-operation  for 
the  creation  of  new  ones  when  found  to  be  neces- 


368  APPENDIX 

sary  from  time  to  time ;  co-operation  with  all  other 
sister  cities  and  States  in  creating  a  body  of  ap- 
proved information  and  legislation  upon  the 
broadest  principles  of  humanity,  for  the  service  of 
helping  the  wandering  citizen,  the  unemployed 
masses,  of  removing  the  causes,  of  bettering  condi- 
tions and  of  correcting  wrongs  throughout  the 
world. 

Standing  as  the  collective  social  action  of  the 
whole  people  for  meeting  honestly  and  scientifically 
the  communal  obligation  to  the  outcast,  wandering, 
unemployed  wage-earner,  the  homeless  man  and 
woman,  without  special  regard  for  race  or  class  or 
sect,  serving  no  private  scheme,  or  ulterior  motive, 
the  Twentieth  Century  Municipal  Emergency 
Home  will  be  a  potent  witness  to  the  practical  ex- 
pression in  municipal  administrations  of  that 
awakening  social  conscience  which  is  the  growing 
hope  for  righteousness  in  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth. 

Following  are  suggestions  for  the  printed  cards 
to  be  used  both  as  advertisement  and  admission 
tickets  for  the  needy: 


APPENDIX  369 

I 


THIS  TICKET  IS  GOOD  FOR 

LODGING,  FOOD  AND  BATH  AT  THE 

MUNICIPAL  EMERGENCY  HOME 

(Location) 


SUPT.  ASST.    SUPT. 

TELEPHONE 


(Eeverse  side) 


The  City  of is  maintaining  a  Municipal  Emer- 
gency Home  for  the  benefit  of  all  wandering  citizens, 
homeless  and  indigent  men  and  boys,  women  and  girls 
in  this  City.  Lodging,  food,  a  bath  and  other  neces- 
saries of  life  are  being  provided  free  to  every  appli- 
cant. Those  seeking  work  are  given  employment. 
The  crippled,  injured,  old  or  infirm  are  sent  each 
morning  to  hospitals,  dispensaries  or  homes.  Each 
applicant  receives  the  personal  attention  of  the  super- 
intendent, and  upon  personal  investigation  his  or  her 
case  is  disposed  of  upon  the  facts  so  determined  alone. 
Employment  is  given  to  suit  the  applicants  and  only 
able-bodied  people  will  be  sent  to  work.  All  loyal 

citizens  of  the  City  of are  earnestly  requested  to 

refer  needy,  homeless  fellow-men  to  the  Municipal 
Emergency  Home  by  means  of  this  ticket. 

BY  AUTHORITY  OF 


370  APPENDIX 

II 


GET  YOUR  HELP 

FROM  THE 
MUNICIPAL  EMERGENCY  HOME 

(Location) 

SKILLED  AND  UNSKILLED  LABOR  CAN  BE  OBTAINED 
WITHOUT  CHARGE  TO  EMPLOYER  OR  EMPLOYEE 


CARE  TAKEN  TO  SUPPLY  SITUATIONS  WITH 
COMPETENT  MEN 


ASST.  SUPT.  SUPT. 

TELEPHONE 


In  conclusion,  I  refer  to  New  York's  Municipal 
Emergency  Home,  as  a  guide  for  the  technical  plans 
which  too  can  be  improved  upon,  and  are  being  im- 
proved upon  as  we  understand  this  great  subject 
more  clearly. 


THE  END 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


' 


UCLA  ACCESS  S 

Interlibrary  Loan 
n630Univers«t\ 

Box  951 575 
os  Angeles, 

- 


UCLA  YRL  ILL 


DUE:  DEC  0  1 


Form 


Research  Library 
90095 


2005 


A     000  098  361     9 

ft.* 

K  - 


t 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
THIS  BOOK  CARD      J 


University  Research  Library 


